A Mirror Darkly
by Danielle Anderson
Summary: Haunted by their demons, Ed and Roy find themselves falling for each other Warning: AU girl!Ed. Please R&R.
1. Atonement

Disclaimer: I own nothing (applies to all chapters)

"For now we see through a mirror, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known." (1 Corinthians 13:12)

_He stands before a sleeping city in the dark of the night, feeling too warm in his heavy military uniform. The night in silent like a well and there is no moon as if it has decided to hide behind the clouds, rather than witness the wickedness that will take place tonight. The only lights coming are from the dimly lit lamps inside the mud houses. Only soldiers are awake at this unholy hour because of unholy orders._

_The houses are so simple with thatched roofs and no electricity and there are so many of them. Such a simple civilization without modern conveniences like electricity and running water, why would the government want it annihilated? Sometimes he can see the silhouettes moving about inside the rooms and he feels an inexplicable urge to and warn them of what is about to happen. Kimbley and Gran have their positions on other sides of the city to stop anyone from ever getting out. Maybe he could do something now..._

_Instead he looks at the ring with a gleaming red stone that he has slipped on under the orders of his superiors, and his eyes narrow and harden with determination that he has to do this, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how senseless it is. _

_Then he raises his hand, sheathed in rough white ignition cloth and snaps his fingers and watches the city light up like orange-red flames in a fireplace._

"_She did what_?"

Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye winces at the force of the bellow coming from the dark-haired man seated before her and she shifts uncomfortable under his obsidian gaze, feeling like a child telling on her sibling to their parents.

"She refused to transmute the holding cell when General Harrison commanded her to do so, sir," she says to the floor. "When he asked her why, she told him that she wouldn't kill, no matter who ordered her to."

Colonel Roy Mustang's eyes harden as he looks back at his desk, lacing his fingers on his lap, jaw clenched in controlled rage. "I see," his voice is edgy and for once, Hawkeye is afraid of him.

"Luckily, the general decided not to have Edward court-marshaled because she's so young. She is waiting outside to hand in her report, sir," she says quietly. She holds her breath and shies away a little, afraid of what he'll say next.

"Send her in," he says grimly and she quickly leaves, flushing.

He looks out the window. Central is usually noisy and stern but it is such a quiet and beautiful day outside in the wake of the end of another war and the trees are shedding their reddish brown leaves to blanket the ground in the autumn chill and for a moment, he thinks it's unfair that he should be made to stay cooped up within these four walls to deal with wayward subordinates while Black Hayate runs around happily in the grass with a bone in his mouth. He can see people shuffling the dry leaves on the dull stone pavements beneath their feet and the sound reminds him of fire cracking. Something is wrong with the electricity in this building today and the ceiling fans aren't working, which makes his blood boil in his veins even more than a certain blonde –

Who is being quietly ushered into his office by an anxious-looking Hawkeye, who is undoubtedly afraid of what he'll do the younger officer in the brunt of his anger, like a mother who is afraid how her husband will discipline their naughty child.

Said younger officer, on the other hand, seems to have to fears whatsoever and looks up at him calmly, defiantly, like a criminal who has received the death penalty but refuses to apologize because in his mind, he is some sort of savior, pure and righteous, fighting against a world that does not understand him.

"Fullmetal," he regards her with fiery coldness and she looks back, unflinching. There is hate and rebelliousness in those ocher eyes that are now fixed on him and he remembers that of all his subordinate officers, she is the one who is the least afraid of him, like a child who is not afraid of monsters hiding under her bed because she knows that there are no such things as monsters or ghosts, and if there are, then she'll battle them bravely until they are slain and she can get a good night's sleep. She says nothing. After handing in her report, she just stands there as stiff as pole and waits for him to pronounce judgment on her.

"I heard something very displeasing about you today," his gaze does not falter.

Neither does hers.

"I'm told that you disobeyed General Harrison's orders to transmute a certain prison at Drachma," he keeps looking at her. "Is this true?"

"It is," she says, voice husky and unflinching. _Such admirable courage, to not be afraid in the face of certain danger when other soldiers would be wetting their pants because of the consequences._

"How do you defend yourself?"

"I don't." She looks away from him then, eyes filled with pain, just like a martyr so willing so die for what he believes is right. "I'm not a killer."

"But you're a soldier!" he raises his voice then as he gets to his feet and slams down his fist on his desk, rattling the penholders on the smooth wooden surface. She flinches and maybe at other time, he would have been reveled in getting such a reaction from her but he is too angry now to take pleasure in such petty things. "You disobeyed a direct order on the battlefield, from an officer superior to you by several ranks!" He takes a deep a breath and tries to calm himself down. _It's no good to scream at her, there's no point...what are you trying to achieve?_

There is silence in the room, heavy as a blanket and as warm as the fire that he set on Ishbal so many years ago and he feels that maybe if he reaches his hand out now, he can touch the silence and feel its density against his fingertips, fingertips that took so many innocently lives by creating a single spark.

She meets his gaze right then, her eyes heated with the fury of the sun and again, he sees flames rising in a tranquil city.

_Buildings falling down, people running out of their houses, screaming while they blaze, mothers uselessly trying to put out the flames from the burning bodies of their children while he stands and witnesses the horror that is taking place just from a simple snap of his fingers._

Fullmetal's eyes are like fire, he observes and through them, he sees that infernal past, which becomes even more vivid as she glares at him unwaveringly and says in a strained, hate-filled voice, "I won't kill! I don't care who tells me to."

Roy freezes right then and he feels a cold shiver down his spine as though the temperature in the room has suddenly dropped and hell has just frozen over. He stares at her, flabbergasted; he has been doing that a lot lately when she comes to his office to rant or hand in a report and for a moment, he allows his gaze to linger on her blond braid and slightly roundish face before he swallows and says in a voice stern with suppressed rage, "That is not an option, Edward. You agreed to become a dog of the military when you became a State Alchemist and I don't think I need you remind you that all dogs have to obey their masters whether they like it or not."

_But why do they want to kill these people? What did they do?_

"You are my subordinate," he continues, "and what you do reflects on me, as well."

"Oh, so this is about you now!" she exclaims furiously, taking a step forward, her clenched automail fist raised as though she would like nothing better at that moment than to take a swing at him.

He tenses, finding that he can't blame her. "I've overlooked your...shortcomings," he begins, ignoring what she has just said.

And she bursts out, "Who're you calling so short that you can't see them in a ten-meter radius?"

He glowers at her. "That's not what I said, Fullmetal. I've overlooked your slipups long enough because you were looking for the Philosopher's Stone – "

"Which we still haven't found!" she interjects but he motions her to shut up.

"Stop interrupting me!" he says irritably. "You have take responsibility for your thoughtless actions at one point, Fullmetal." He takes a deep breath to stop himself from trembling and he briefly closes his eyes, feeling like he's about to step off a precipice and plunge to his death.

_People on fire, arms flaying in a way that is helpless and comic at the same time, jumping off the roofs in a desperate attempt to extinguish the flames...that didn't require much thought._

He opens his eyes and looks at Edward. She is looking at him distrustfully and this time, there is a trace of fear in those fiery eyes. He holds out his hand, hoping that she can't see he's shivering even though the room has started to feel hot and stuffy again and a trickle of sweat runs down his spine...

"Give me your watch," he says levelly.

Her eyes widen in surprise and horror and she takes a step back as if she has been put face-to-face in a boxing ring with a giant cobra. Her lips part and for a moment, no sound comes out of them. And then, those rosy lips form a single, defiant word, "_No_."

"Give me your watch, Fullmetal," he says more firmly this time, his patience running out like the heat of the sun drying up the water in the wells of desert cities.

"You're discharging me?" she cries like a little girl whose favorite toys are being taken away because she refused to 'behave' the way her parents wanted her to.

"You're lucky you aren't being court-marshaled!" He explodes. And then, he smirks slightly. "I'm suspending you for a fortnight." He pauses for effect before he says, "Without pay."

"WHAT?" Edward bellows. "You can't do that – "

"I can't do that?" Roy echoes with a mirthless laugh. "Watch me."

She pauses and stares at him in panic and disbelief. "But...what am I supposed to eat? How am I supposed to pay the rent? How do I take care of Al?" she sputters. She isn't really saying this to him. Rather, she's mumbling them to herself, trying to understand what she will do now and for the briefest of moments, he feels sorry for her.

He recovers quickly with a resigned shake of his head. "You live in the dorms, Fullmetal – you don't pay rent. Now give me your watch. That's an order."

She visibly grits her teeth and stomps up to him, her footfall uneven as she reaches into the pocket of those tight-fitting leather pants, – _her legs are slender and shapely_ – pulls out a silver watch and slams it into his outstretched hands. "Here you go, you fucking bastard," she spits hatefully. "Hope you're happy now."

_A child having a temper tantrum._

_A child..._

Which is why he should not be looking at the curves of her breasts against her short black jacket.

He raises his head, hoping that she didn't notice him staring at her for all the wrong reasons, and he smirks. "Perhaps in future, you will think before you decide to disobey a higher-ranking officer, Fullmetal," he says to her coldly.

She narrows her eyes disdainfully at him and if looks could kill, then he would be a charred corpse right now, just like the innocent civilians he slew at Ishbal.

"I'll see you in two weeks, Fullmetal," he says impudently as he watches the younger alchemist throw a final glare over her shoulder and slam the door shut.

He sighs and leans back in his chair, trying to calm down. He looks out the window just in time to see her storm out of HQ and the other officers quickly get out of her way as they notice her angry expression. The words he said to her earlier still ring in the room.

_Perhaps in future, you will think before you decide to disobey a higher-ranking officer, Fullmetal._

But Fullmetal has never cared about rank and never will.

He smiles sadly. _That's what makes her the smarter one._

Russel is lying beside Ed on the bed as she looks up at the shadows on the ceiling, her mind drifting back to Drachma and this morning. She has been seeing him for a few months now, on and off. It is nothing serious, although she suspects sometimes that he would like it to be serious and he seems to have missed her while she was away at war for a month. But now the war is over and under different circumstances, she would have been happy to see him, she would have kissed him fiercely and clawed at his clothes as soon as he entered her apartment but now, she is troubled by other things that she witnessed during her time away, even more so by this morning.

_You agreed to become a dog of the military when you became a State Alchemist and I don't think I need you remind you that all dogs have to obey their masters whether they like it or not._

Her jaw clenches again and her eyes harden in rage. And then she starts as she feels soft lips delicately kiss her jaw line. She turns back to see Russell looking at her in concern.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly. "You seemed pretty...distracted tonight."

She keeps looking at him for few moments and then she sighs and leans back in his embrace, trying to relax. "I'm fine," she lies, keeping her gaze fixed on the wall beside their bed.

He nods. "How's work?"

She grimaces at the way he says the word "work," as if he has no idea (and he doesn't) about the implications of that word. Work is stressful and severe, filled with generals demanding her to kill innocent people against her will and handsome colonels suspending her with a smirk just because she didn't do as she was told.

_But you asked for this, _she reminds herself.

_If anyone should endure the shame of becoming a military dog, then let me be the one, Al._

Her fists still clench with rage as she replays the earlier scene in Mustang's office and she can't seem to block it out of her mind no matter how hard she tries. It is like the horrifying scenes she witnessed at Drachma...

_Soldiers gunning down women and children, looting at plundering under the orders of higher-ranking officers while she stands there, trembling in shocked rage, witnessing war for the first time..._

"Ed, are you listening to me?"

She turns to Russell. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

He sighs in irritation. "I was saying that I need to get going."

She frowns, surprised. "You're not staying?" Inside, she can't bring herself to care much, at least, not tonight when all she wants to do is take Mustang by the back of his neck and smash his smirking face into his desk or the wall.

"No, Fletcher's sick, I need to get back to the hotel." He gets up and starts buttoning his shirt. "Jeez, Ed, you sound really bothered about something."

"It's nothing, I told you." Now she is annoyed. He just got to Central this morning and he intends to go back to Youswell tomorrow. She can't say that she was looking forward to spending more time with him because right now, she prefers to be alone and not go through the humiliation of him laughing at her because she got suspended.

Ok, so maybe he wouldn't laugh at her but he might be smug because he keeps saying that she has a bad temper.

As if he doesn't.

She waits until he is gone from her room and then she fixes her clothes. Her hair is loose from his prying fingers (she hates it when people touch her hair, even worse, when they stare at her automail). She isn't too fond of Russell and sometimes she wonders why she's going out with him if she doesn't like him. Then again, he is the one who made it sound like a good idea in the first place...

She is rummaging through the cupboard looking for something to eat when the door opens and Al comes in, looking as meek as possible in a suit of armor. "Is he gone?" he asks.

She nods and waves him inside. He walks as quietly as he can so that he doesn't wake up in the other soldiers in the dorm. There were enough complains since they started living here and Al had to hold her back from maiming those soldiers for calling him a chunk of metal and her a dwarf.

She hasn't seen much of Al all day because she was too busy wandering out in the streets after getting dismissed from that bastard Mustang's office (_Mustang who spends too much time smirking and staring at her like he owns HQ and she's just another one of his dogs, or even worse, his admirers)_. Al sits at the table, the metal making a loud noise against the wood of the chair. She's used to it by now. She has no right to complain. After all, it is her fault that he's in this body of steel.

_You have take responsibility for your thoughtless actions at one point, Fullmetal._

Which reminds her.

"Hey...Al?" she speaks up.

He looks at her expectantly. "Yeah?"

"There's something I need to tell you..." she momentarily gives up her search for food (her confession is more important now) and she settles on a chair beside him and fidgets under his steady gaze.

"What is it?" he asks in immediate concern. "Is something wrong? Did anything bad happen?"

"Uh, kinda," she glances away before facing him. "Colonel Mustang...suspended me today."

"WHAT?" Al nearly jumps to his feet but she holds him back, urging him to calm down. "He suspended you? He can't do that! We need to talk to him, sister..."

She shakes her head and looks down to the floor, dejected. "I don't think there's anything we can do, Al."

"But what did you do?" asks Al. "Why would he suspend you?"

"You remember that I didn't want to transmute the prison at Drachma when the general ordered me to?" she sighs as she watches the helmet nod. "Well...that's why I got suspended."

"But – but," the boy sputters and she exhales heavily.

"I know he ordered me," she goes on quietly in the darkness. "But I just couldn't do it with all those prisoners inside. And I'm not sorry." She sounds determined. "I just couldn't take their lives knowing that..." she trails off and looks up as she feels a comforting big hand come to rest on her shoulder.

"I understand, sister," the boy says sympathetically. "And I thought the Colonel would, too. I mean, didn't he fight the war at Ishbal?"

Ed shrugs and leans forward on the table. "Yeah," she says. "I guess he didn't have much of a choice."

"And what about our..." he starts.

"Don't worry about it," she explains. "It's only for two weeks. Then I'll be back in duty." She smiles and tries to shrug off the sinking feeling in her stomach from remembering the cries and the explosions and ruined buildings back at Drachma. She still has nightmares about those images...maybe she really did expect Mustang to cut her some slack.

Instead, he just yelled at her and took away her watch.

She looks up at Al with a sudden bright smile on her face. His shoulders are slouched in depression, depression over something she did and while she herself doesn't mind feeling upset, she can't stand to see her little brother suffer because of her. He suffers enough already in that suit of armor...

"Hey," she grins, "wanna make me pancakes?"

"Uh, sister," he says hesitantly, "you finished the flour this morning, remember?"

"I did?" she echoes, frowning.

He nods. "And then I didn't see you all day so I assumed you ate out...I couldn't tell you that we have no food here..." he trails off and winces, waiting for her to explode like a grenade.

Figuratively speaking, of course.

"We have no food in the house? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You weren't home, sister!"

"Damn you, Mustang!"


	2. Mothers and Movies

And there's a demon in my head who starts to play  
A nightmare tape loop of what went wrong yesterday  
And I hold my breath 'till it's more than I can take  
And I close my eyes and dream that I'm awake  
Third Eye Blind, "Narcolepsy"

Edward is bored to tears.

Literally.

In the past two days, she has cleaned the room twice (and she hates housework), counted the bathroom floor tiles four times (she really must work on the grime and dirt stuck between them in long, dark lines), searched the cabinets for breakfast twenty-eight times (which led Al to get something for her from the mess hall – something that he's been doing a lot lately) and polished Al's amour four times (she was ready to repeat the task for a fifth time but he told her to stay away because he didn't trust her not to wipe off the blood seal and besides, it's not like he smelled bad).

She said that she begged to differ. He told her that wasn't funny.

Now she has nothing else to do except lie on her bed, let her legs dangle from the mattress and watch the shadows on the ceiling. It is almost lunchtime and she is distraught that she has no money. She is starving but she isn't inclined to go to the mess hall. Al is sitting in the corner, helmet tucked in his chin and it looks like he's taking a nap...sort of. Earlier she saw him fiddling with her jacket and she just assumed that he was mending some tears. She gets up and starts to put on her clothes.

"I'm going out, Al," she says. "You coming?"

"Uh, no," he sounds slightly depressed.

She eyes him in concern and walks over. "You okay?"

"Yeah..." he sounds down in the mouth. "I just had this bad dream."

She puts her human hand on his shoulder, carefully avoiding the spikes. They're gleaming in the sunlight spilling into the room, she notices, and she feels pleased inside. She could get used to housework...

"Oh?" she rubs the cold metal sympathetically. She neglects to remind him that in order to dream, he has to sleep because it is her fault that he can't dream or sleep. Sometimes she wishes that they could trade places. Because maybe, in that hollow suit of armor, those cries would leave her alone.

_Edward...you couldn't bring me back..._

_Leave my child alone, he's done nothing to you..._

"I dreamt that I had all these kittens," he was saying, pulling her away from her stream of thought. "And I kept one kitten in this blue box to protect it from the cold and I forgot to feed it...and then I opened the box a few days later and all this water gushed out and the kitten was dead." His voice sounds small and she feels lost all of sudden.

He goes on, his voice dull. "I kept poking the kitten – it was white and the fur got wet – I don't know where the water came from...and its body was cold and soaked and I kept hoping that it would come back to life but..."

The silence in the small room suddenly feels suffocating as her mind drifts back to a time when she was faced with a beautiful dead woman whose body refused to stay warm no matter how many blankets covered and who would never come back no matter how hard her children cried.

Ed forces herself to laugh but it doesn't sound quiet right, the same way it wouldn't sound right to start screaming "Party!" in the middle of the State Alchemist entrance exam. "Come on, Al," she says soothingly, trying to lighten the grim situation. "It was just a stupid nightmare. You're the last person I know who'd hurt a kitten." She becomes keenly aware that he didn't hurt the kitten in his dream; he was just unable to care for it. "That would never happen in real life."

Al nods despairingly. They are quiet for a moment and then he says, "Sister...do you think...after we get our bodies back...I could have a kitten of my own?"

She is startled by this simple question. She hates the way how his voice sounds – hopeless and inconsolable and once again, she is reminded that it is because of her arrogance, her pride that they are in this situation. She smiles kindly at him and rubs his helmet in a gesture of affection. "Sure, Al," she says confidently. "I'll get all the kittens you want."

He seems to smile for a moment and then he says in a bright voice, "We will get back our bodies...won't we, sister?" It sounds as though he's trying to convince himself of this because they've been stuck in this discouraging condition for the last four years and they always tell themselves that things are looking bright, they'll find the Philosopher's Stone soon and get their bodies back to normal.

But as Ed walks out of the room, it feels like all this time, they've just been two innocent children, striving for something impossible _like bringing back the dead_, thinking that if they tried hard enough then they would succeed. And it is only now that they are learning life isn't so simple.

Al decided to stay at the dorm and when she left, he suddenly seemed very interested in a line of ants traveling along a long crack in the wall. She suspects that he wanted to bring in the stray kittens from outside and play with them until she returns. And then he'll hide them in the closet or under the bed and act nervous while she rolls her eyes and pretends not to hear the mewing and purring from the dark places in the small room.

She straightens her jacket. It is cool today and she kicks a small grey stone with every other step. The stone is big and it may have hurt her flesh foot but she find the clang that it makes with the automail through the leather boots quite amusing, like a tone-deaf musician trying to compose a symphony on a guitar. She kicks the stone unreservedly, imagining that it is Harrison or Mustang's head.

_Mom...is that you?_

_A creature malformed, moaning, panting for breath, eyes wide in terrible pain._

_Help me..._

_I really thought you, of all people, would understand._

HQ stands several hundred feet away, its tall, concrete presence looming over and Ed quickly skirts out of its shadows like a cat trying to avoid water. She can't stand to see HQ now, not when she thinks that Mustang is inside, probably having more fun than she is. She smirks. _I hope you're having a worse time, you fucking son of a bitch._ An unbidden image of the colonel as a cooped up chicken in a cage, bedecked in red and black feathers instead of a respectable military uniform, cluck and cackling, strutting about on two hind legs, forced to lay eggs instead of doing paperwork falls into her mind...

And she bursts into laughter. Some soldiers coming her way scowl disapprovingly and quickly walk past her. She shrugs with a lopsided smile and ignores them, choosing to concentrate instead on whether the Colonel could lay eggs or not.

_Knowing him, he'd nag about that, too._

"_I don't have the time for this! Hawkeye can't make me do it! And these red feathers are totally dimming the color of my eyes! How am I supposed to get a date like this?"_

She snickers, promising to bring that image in her mind the next time she has to face him. And then he'll wonder why she isn't scared of him.

She is. A little. She's just very good at hiding it.

It's a really nice day outside and she sees some men in orange overalls diligently sweep away the red-brown leaves from the ground. She puckers her brows. The leaves look so much better on the ground, reminding her of how she and Al used to play among autumn leaves back in Risembool.

She hasn't played with him since their mother died.

She looks wistfully at the library as she passes it, thinking that it would be a good way to spend time by reading books on the Philosopher's Stone (she's already read them all several times) and see if they've missed out any information but then she remembers that Mustang took her watch. And Russell has already returned to Youswell and she never even went to say good bye. She didn't even remember that he was supposed to leave until after he was gone. _Oh, well._

She makes her up her mind to go to the cinema.

They have none of those animated pictures shows that she's recently become so fond of running. Apparently children aren't supposed to be here at one o'clock in the afternoon, they are supposed to be at school, the ticket-vendor tells her. She rolls her eyes and looks at what else is playing. There is a huge poster of two beautiful women adorned in gold and silk sandwiching a tall man, all of them having narrowed eyes and exotic features, and the title reads _Lovers in Xing._

What a stupid title.

She decides to watch it.

Her stomach is churning like the machinery in a factory and she wistfully stares at the food stand, wishing that she had money (what the hell happened to the salary she got before she was sent off to Drachma?). As if it's answer to her silent prayer, she feels a slight bulge in the pockets and another metal tinkle against her automail.

And then she smiles. _Al..._

She buys two hotdogs, a huge bar of chocolate, orange soda and a bag of honeyed popcorn with the money that Al probably shoved into her jacket this morning because she doesn't recall doing that herself (Russell did want some change that night but she conveniently ignored him). Al thinks she doesn't know this (half the time, she forgets it, actually) but he hides a little piggy bank under his little-used bed. This bank isn't exactly shaped like a pig; it looks more like a kitten who probably swallowed a little pig and is having a bad time coping with the results. And thus Al consoles himself (and saves money that would have otherwise disappeared since Ed can't seem to save any) for the time being because this is the closest he'll get to having a pet kitty.

At that moment, Ed is filled with such love for her brother that she solemnly promises to herself (for perhaps the five thousandth time) that they _will_ get their bodies back and when they do, she'll get him all the kitties that he can take care of. Hell, she'll get him a little turtle, too, even though she can't stand those things (they bore her).

And maybe while she's at it, she'll try to persuade Winry to go out on a date with him, too.

Her good mood quickly turns to ashes when the ticket-vendor doubts whether she's old enough to watch this "adult movie."

"Who're you calling so short that they can't convince someone they're old enough to watch porn?" she roars, thrashing her arms wildly. "I'll have you know that I'm a State Alchemist!"

The man behind the glass pan pushes out a ticket quickly and cringes away, saying that she doesn't need to pay for it. She goes inside the theatre smugly.

Now is she had her watch, this wouldn't have happened.

Roy has the sudden urge to doodle a moustache, or better yet, _hair_ on General Harrison, who is now sitting opposite him in his office. He never looks forward to such meetings, especially when he knows that someone will be making a comment about one of his very disobedient subordinates.

He has only one very disobedient subordinate and that's Fullmetal.

He is trying his best to concentrate on what the General is telling him but that appears to be a difficult task because right now, he feels as if someone is pounding rocks on his head.

_Note to self – never get drunk again._

The General's lips are moving – they appear cracked from the bitter cold weather at Drachma – and words are definitely coming out and when Roy tries to listen, he hears things like "Fullmetal – rebellious – must be punished – then again, it's understandable – too young" and the string goes on.

"Yes, General," he finds himself saying and he feels as if a benevolent demon has possessed his body, doing all the work for him, "Edward is very young. As a matter of fact she's the youngest State Alchemist."

Is there are a hint of pride in his voice?

"Yes, I understand," the older General replies, scratching his nose. "From what I know, she became so at the age of twelve, didn't she?"

"That is correct," the demon smirks for Roy.

"Hmm, but that's no excuse for her to disobey her superiors during battle, Colonel Mustang. She would've been court-martialed under other circumstances..."

"I'm aware of that. I've already suspended her for two weeks, General – I fully intend to ensure that she never does such a thing again."

"I hope so, Mustang. With the border dispute with Drachma still not fully settled, there's no telling when war will strike out again and Fuhrer Bradley insists we need to be on guard. And we need our prized State Alchemists to be fully on our side, don't we?"

_Charred flesh, stench of blood, screams sounding in the night._

_Do it, Major Mustang, that's an order!_

_Flames, flames, flames..._

"Of course." Roy tries to hide the bitterness in his smile. Then he leans forward curiously. "There's something I'd like to know, sir. What did Fullmetal do exactly? I didn't get a chance to ask her and I wanted to hear an unbiased account."

General Harrison looks pleased at the implication and he smiles a little. "Well, there was a small holding cell on our side of the border, where we were holding some prisoners of war. We wanted them to cease fire or we would execute the prisoners. But they didn't listen. Therefore, I ordered Fullmetal to transmute the prison into a sort of gas chamber."

Roy stares at the older man as if he's grown two heads and for an instant, he's speechless. "But sir," he says, finding his voice at last. "With all due respect, wouldn't it have been easier to just shoot them?"

The General snorts. "That's so simple. We wanted the Drachmans to know that we have powerful alchemists fighting for us, be afraid and surrender. Needless to say, I was absolutely shocked when she refused right in my face." He shakes his head. "I hope this never happens again, Colonel."

"It won't, sir," says Roy with all the sincerity that he can muster at the moment. A few minutes later, the General is gone and he left alone in the office with a splitting headache.

One of the secretaries knocks on his door. "There's a call for you on line three, sir," she says.

He looks at her blankly. Could it be Jacqueline? Madeline? He woke up this morning in a strange woman's bed and he was too drunk to recall her name or whether he did anything with her. Judging from the fact that he was fully clothed and she seemed pissed, he deduced that he'd passed out before anything could happen because he is not in the habit of immediately dressing after sex.

_Better to be drunk and passed out in a dark place or a stranger's bed where no nightmares can bother you than to be coherent enough to face the demons of Ishbal._

He wonders how that woman knew where to call him. "Tell them I'm busy." Which is not exactly a lie because he still has to finish the paperwork on Fullmetal's suspension. That girl is enough of a pain when she's on duty, she's even more of a pain when he has to account for her actions.

All right, so he doesn't exactly have to account for her actions, which is fair, but if life were completely fair then she would be doing the paperwork and he would be having a nice vacation in a place like Kaar.

"She says her name is Nora, sir," the secretary informs him.

He blanches, feeling as though someone has just thrown him into a nearly-frozen pond on a December night. _Nora..._ "I'll take the call," he quickly recovers. After the secretary has left, he takes a deep, calming breath and composes himself just like when he did before Ishbal and Hughes' funeral.

He picks up the receiver and tentatively puts it to his ear as if it were a hot iron. "This is Mustang," he says in his best professional voice, hoping that she will take the hint and not bother him at work or anywhere else, for that matter. "Make it quick."

"Now, Roy," a husky, feminine voice chides him on the other line. "There's no need to take that tone with your mother."

His eyes harden and his brows furrow. "What do you want?" he snaps impatiently, instantly regretting that he decided to talk to her.

"I just wanted to see how my son was doing," comes the breezy reply. "You didn't think I'd forgotten about you, did you?"

_If only._

"Anyway," she goes on, "is everything all right?"

_Look at this boy, Richard, he's your only son! Are you going to let him starve because I made one little mistake?_

_Come on, Roy, look at what your mommy bought today. Isn't the dress lovely? What? You're hungry? Oh, you'll just have to wait until dinner time. I haven't got anything for you now._

He grits his teeth and tries to keep his calm. "Everything's fine," he answers with forced civility. "Is there any reason you called?"

_Lashes, burns, slaps..._

_I'm sorry, mom! Just stop!_

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm coming over to Central soon," she says.

He can't stop the harsh laughter that escapes his mouth. "Why, getting bored of Kaar already? I heard it's lovely there at this time of the year."

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about, actually," she sounds sober all of a sudden. "But not on the phone."

"I can hardly think that anyone would tap this line just to hear what you have to say to me," he quips coldly.

She says she will let him know when she arrives and where she is staying. He grunts and hangs up. He looks forward to her visits the same way a cow looks forward to going to the butcher shop. He is suddenly feels down, caught in a swirl of emotions that range from anger to depression to utter despair. Unable to concentrate on his work anymore, he grabs his coat and steps out of his office.

Hawkeye looks up at him in surprise from the leather-bound book she was reading. She looks alert, ready to stop him if he decides to play truant today. How predictable.

"I'm not feeling very well," he announces. "I think I'll take the rest of the day off, Lieutenant."

His staff gawk at him as though he is a king who has just informed his subjects that he no longer wishes to rule the country, instead choosing to pursue his lifelong dream of becoming a court jester.

"But sir," Hawkeye gets to her feet and says in a no-nonsense voice, "there are a lot of reports –"

"I've already gone through half of them," says Roy in a no-nonsense voice of his voice. "If I'm not mistaken, they are to be processed the day after tomorrow. Am I correct?"

She flusters. "Yes, sir, but –"

"I see no reason why they can't be completed tomorrow," he informs her dourly. He is not usually like this with his subordinates but lately, he's been feeling off the mark and he would rather not say why. "Good day to you, Lieutenant. I'll see you all tomorrow morning." With that, he strolls out of the room, leaving them staring at him.

Roy counts the steps out of HQ premises as he feels the crunch of remaining golden-brown leaves under his shoes, feeling a little better as the wind rustles his hair. He pushes his jet black strands away from his eyes and walks on. He was feeling a little hungry before but the conversation with General Harrison and his mother made him lose his appetite.

_You stupid, good-for-nothing boy, just look at what you did to my bracelets! No dinner for you!_

He walks on.

His headache is better now, which is good and as he comes upon a theatre, he makes a decision to watch a movie. After all, it is just half-past-one and he thinks that he will feel comfortable in a huge dark room all by himself because most spectators are at work or at school at this hour.

There seems to be nothing playing except a seemingly-ridiculous movie called _Lovers in Xing._ The title sounds ridiculous but then again, he isn't looking for quality entertainment now. Anything will do.

He uninterestedly purchases a ticket from a man who seems to have been traumatized by a recent unpleasant experience and he is curious and surprised because normally, people are not let into a theatre after the picture show has begun.

_Maybe my uniform scared him,_ he muses offhandedly. _It happens sometimes._

He takes the ticket and steps into the theatre. It is quite large with several rows of empty seats, and it is mostly dark except for the ocher light from outside, which is cut off as soon as he shuts the door behind him, and the radiance from the movie screen.

There is a man dressed in an elaborate uniform – more elaborate than the Amestrian one, Roy notices – he is mounting an elegant black horse and galloping off to war, it seems. Mildly interested, he takes a few steps to reach the front row and frowns upon hearing a loud crunching noise. He looks to his left to find Fullmetal holding a popcorn bag in one hand and digging in with another, eyes glued to the screen.

_Edward? What's she doing here?_

_Well, isn't it obvious? She's watching the movie!_

He feels surprised to find her, of all people, here, watching a rather risqué motion picture (the poster said 18+) and he goes up to her quietly like a cat on its paws and waits for her to notice him. He stands there for minute or two but she is greedily watching the screen, appearing to be even more interested as the on-screen hero draws a transmutation circle (it is all wrong – there should be two circles, not four). And he pounces.

"Ahem," he says.

This time, she looks up. Her eyes bulge with surprise at his sudden appearance. She opens her mouth to say something and then she starts coughing.

Alarmed, he reaches out and pats her on the back. After a few seconds, she seems to have swallowed her food and now she is panting and looking at him angrily.

"What the hell are you trying to do?" she demands. "Choke me to death?"

"As interesting as that would be, Fullmetal," he says calmly, putting his hands in his pockets. "I have no intention of doing that since the paperwork would be a pain." It has been two days since they saw each other and they are already back to cursing and exchanging insults.

"Bastard!" she swears at him. She has calmed down now and is breathing normally, which relieves him. "What are you doing here, anyway, cutting work? The last time I checked, it wasn't five o'clock yet."

He flaunts a lopsided little smile. "Isn't it obvious, Fullmetal? I'm here to watch a movie." He takes a seat beside her and she scowls at him, scooting away as though he were the plague incarnate. "And I'm not feeling well so I took the rest of the day off."

"Yeah, right," she scoffs, "I bet you just made up the 'not feeling well' part to get off work."

His mouth sets but he decides to ignore her remark. He glances at the popcorn she is having and shrugs and watches the movie after it becomes clear that she won't offer him any. Besides, the food the characters are having on-screen looks more delicious.

A/N: Thanks to **blushingsigh** and **melanthamoree** for giving me ideas and Roy's mother's name. I understand that the plot of the story might be a little confusing so I'll explain it. On reading **rainjoyous**'s _Closer_, she once told me in a comment that our view on romance is shaped by the first romantic relationship we see - that of our parents. So I thought it would be interesting to work that idea on the fic. It doesn't show in the story yet but the plot is developing slowly :).


	3. Moi, je m'appelle Lolita

A/N: Please R&R.

When the world looks back  
When the face looks after that  
I can see a lot of life in you  
I can see a lot of life in you

Sujfan Stevens, "The Dress Looks Nice On You"

The movie isn't so bad once you get into it. It's just that Fullmetal's crunching seems to be getting louder and louder by the minute, preventing Roy from hearing what's actually going on. He casts irritated glances at the young girl from time to time but she pays him no attention. She contently stares at the large screen and pops those little honey-covered popcorns into her mouth. Finally, he rolls his eyes and gives up, deciding to watch the movie for all it's worth.

"You missed the good parts," she says suddenly with a grin.

He turns his obsidian gaze on her, taken aback. _Good parts?_ "Meaning?"

"Prince Valiant just got engaged to Clytemnestra the night after he slept with her cousin Serena," she explains as-a-matter-of-factly. "But the truth is he's really in love with the castle maid."

"Oh, I see," Roy says gravely. "I was hoping it would be the mother this time. I guess we'll see that storyline come to fruition in Paul Barker's next film. I'm hoping he'll run out of these royal love storylines by the end of the decade."

"Who's Paul Barker?"

"He's a movie maker. In fact, he made this one, too."

"Really?" her eyes become large with astonishment as for the first time since they started watching the movie, she looks at him.

He snorts. "Don't tell me you came to watch this movie without knowing who directed it."

"I don't really care," she is back to staring at the screen now. "It's all the same. I was really here for the animated pictures but they don't have them running at this time of the day." She scoffs.

"And why not?"

"The ticket guy said that kids aren't supposed to be here, they're supposed to be at school."

He digests this piece of information. "Ah. Then I assume that it was you who frightened the poor man so."

She eyes him suspiciously, ignoring her popcorn for a moment. "How the hell did you know that he's scared?"

"I did buy a ticket to get in," he points out with a little smile and a raised black eyebrow. "He seemed to be shaking in his shoes when I got here."

She scowls, turning back to the screen. "The creep deserved it," she declares heftily.

"Is that so?" he rejoins. "May I ask why?"

She looks at him briefly and for a moment, she is silent, making him think that she will not reply. He sighs and shifts in his seat, turning his attention back to the movie. And then she says in a quiet voice, "He called me short."

He whips his head to his side and stares at her incredulously. She holds her breath, as if waiting for his reaction.

And then he smirks. "But you _are_ short," he points out rather cruelly.

Ed goes purple. "Hey!" she shoves her automail fist in his face, almost making contact. The smirk fades a little but Roy is suddenly curious to see how it would feel like connecting to his skin violently. He probably deserves it, after all.

"You want a piece of this?" she snarls in his eyes, eye flashing.

He stares at the tight gloved fist. The cotton has almost become dull grey and it looks worn out and the fist seems _tiny_ but he chooses to keep that thought to himself. A part of him wants to take the fist, feel it relax and open in his hand, and kiss it. There must be some sugar and honey stuck to the fabric from the cotton because she didn't remove them while eating and he imagines darting out his tongue and licking it sensually (his stomach is growling). But if he did do that then, yes, she would punch him. So instead, he reaches up slowly and pushes the fist away. "Not today, Edward. I've decided to keep all my teeth intact for the time being."

She looks surprised by him touching her automail. He's touched her automail hand just once, when she was twelve, broken and crying before the bloodsplattered wall in a dark alley on a rainy night over a malformed chimera formerly known as Nina. He did all he could to get her back on track and that included grabbing her automail wrist and pulling her closer.

_You can't bring every creature that's died back to life! It's not right and it's not healthy!_

_You're going to try...human transmutation?_

He gives her a wry smile, watching as she leans back in her seat and returns to munching her popcorn. "How did you manage to get in here, anyway?" he asks curiously. "The poster says that it's 18+."

She makes a face. "I'm not that young, you bastard."

"You're like what, fifteen?"

"I'm sixteen, Colonel Shit. You make it your business to find out everything that I do and you don't even know how old I am?" There is a biting edge in her voice that makes him wince, especially when he remembers why she was suspended in the first place. "You're efficient."

_Only sixteen and you were sent to die for your country. And you still had the courage to stand up for what you believe in. I was twenty and I cowered like a good dog and obeyed my master, regardless of the consequences._

Aloud, he says, "I can't keep track of everything, Edward. I'm not God."

"Hmm," her lips pull back in sneer and her eyes harden. "And thank whatever Powers That Be out there 'cause you'd be a terrible one at that."

They quietly watch two beautiful, elaborately dressed women onscreen pull faces on each other, point, and glare and say words of hatred. They are supposed to be cousins but Roy notices that they have no similarities whatsoever.

"Clytemnestra and Serena, I presume?" he says.

She nods. "Bingo." She seems to be enjoying this whole show, in a really perverse way, like people who feed off the sorrow and pain of others, who are having a worse time than them. It makes sense in a really odd way. Ed has been through a lot of pain so she wouldn't mind watching other people having a worse time than her.

Except that her problems are graver than those of these two characters.

The women are wearing expensive gowns made from a material that seems to be silk, judging from the glossiness and smoothness. One woman is wearing gold dangling earrings with large rubies. The other woman is wearing diamond studs. They look so artificial, like the dolls that he often sees in stores, dolls that appeal to young girls and woman alike. His mother was like that. A perfect doll adorned in gold and silk, flawless makeup with no attachment to the real world, like a queen who prefers the luxury of her palace to facing her suffering subjects.

"You know," says Ed suddenly. "I don't get it. These women are always upset about something or another...and they have _everything._" By "everything" she means arms and legs, enough to eat and not having to worry about whether they would be able to restore their brother's body or not. "I don't get what they're complaining about. I mean, I wouldn't be half as upset if I had such nice clothes."

Roy's face darkens like storm clouds gathering in a peaceful blue sky as unwanted memories force their way back into his consciousness.

_Look at all these pretty skirts!_

_You have too many of them, Mom._

_I want more._

"You know, Fullmetal," his voice is cold as he speaks and she looks at him while his gaze rests on the two women yelling at each other. "There's more to life than just pretty clothes. Sometimes you can have all you want, more than you _need_ but you'll never be satisfied."

For a split second, the young blonde pales at this unexpected reproach and her mouth parts. His eyes are still on the screen as she gathers herself and shoots him a hateful glare.

"I didn't mean it that way, you jerk!" she spits furiously, eyes narrowing. "And you should be one to talk about satisfaction! Dating so many women all the time! Doesn't sound like a satisfied man to me!"

This explosion surprises Roy to a certain extent; he is not that surprised because Fullmetal is given to such outbursts of displeasure, usually in his office, especially when it concerns him. He has heard her scream and shout so many times that sometimes he wonders in secret if she is capable of speaking softly. In another lifetime, he thinks, she would have made an efficient towncrier. He doesn't need to look at her to find that she is still glowering at him, challenging him to retort. She reminds him of a little girl who has just indignantly informed her father that she will not be doing her math homework tonight and she'd like to see what he has to say about it.

So he gives her his say. "My dating habits are none of your concern," he tells her icily. "There's no need for you to bother yourself about them."

"And I don't want to!" she retorts angrily, lips pulled back in a snarl, teeth bared like an angry lion. "For your information, the world doesn't revolve around you, you piece of crap." With that, she slumps violently back against the cushion and starting chewing the popcorn even louder, preventing him from listening to the dialogue.

Of course, at this point of the movie, the dialogue isn't too important because somehow, Prince Valiant has made his way to come back from the war alive and he has now ended up in the bedroom with the beautiful dark-haired woman (he assumes it's Clytemnestra judging from the huge diamond ring on her hand) and they are passionately grappling at each other's clothes, speaking to each other in low, hushed voices. The woman is wearing a red and black satin kimono and Roy raises his eye in appreciation of how quickly the prince undoes the sash with one hand while the other one lovingly caresses her spine.

_Wow. Now that is one move I wouldn't mind picking up._

The woman is pressing herself to him urgently, low surprised gasps of pleasure escaping her painted red lips and she pulls away just briefly to let the prince slide the kimono down her slender arms; then she raises her hands to swiftly undo the buttons on his blue uniform while his mouth moves against hers.

Roy turns to his side to find Edward's bulging eyes on the two lovers. Her hands have stilled against the bag of popcorn and she is staring at the screen openmouthed, her face pale as a blank sheet of paper. He is darkly amused at her reaction. Has she never watched a sex scene before? Judging from her expression, he deduces that she hasn't, for now, the heat is rising in her face (and her ears), giving her a most becoming rosy glow and her eyes are round with astonished embarrassment.

She's tied her hair in a ponytail, he notices for the first time that afternoon. Her ears are safely tucked beneath the blond bangs and her hair looks like straight satin in that ponytail tied at the base by a red ribbon. It looks so soft and silky and for a moment, he is tempted to reach out his hand and brush his fingers through the honeydew locks just to see if they really do feel like silk. He's been so used to seeing her with a braid that he's genuinely surprised to find her hair done in a different way today. Why did she make a ponytail? Did she not have enough time for a braid? He highly doubts that is the case because what would keep her busy when she is suspended?

And most important of all...does Edward have any idea how alluring the ponytail makes her look? He can see the reflection of the images of the movie in her hair, like a mirror. There are all these colors, red, black, white, gold, silver moving together and he hears distinct sounds of the two lovers onscreen but he pays them no heed because her hair is a like a siren, calling him away from everything that is mundane to a world they can call their own.

Suddenly he isn't sure if he wants to be alone in world where there is only him and Edward.

His gaze travels down and rests on her collarbones. He can see a part of her automail sticking out from under the fabric of her black shirt, the cold grey metal a stark contrast against the tawny warm flesh and he is suddenly gripped with the urge to bend down and kiss the metal.

And what would she do then? Would she draw him closer with sweet, seductive whispers and wrap herself around him like the lovers in the movie? Or would she scream at him, smash her right fist against his face, splitting his cheek, and then transmute him into a toilet seat?

He wonders now how she would have turned out if she stayed in Risembool, if she chose to live her life in the rural grasslands as an untamed maiden. Would she swing her braid around her index finger and smile seductively at any stranger that passed her by, lead them to treehollows and let them make love to her while she moaned and arched in their arms? What if he had found those letters that she and Alphonse sent searching for their father, four years later? Would he find Edward playing in the gardens and meadows instead of lying bloody with missing limbs on a bed? Would she flash an inviting smile at him and let him take her virginity?

_Has Fullmetal ever been kissed?_

It would be so easy now to just lower his head, for she is involuntarily leaning towards him, and press his lips against hers. He has imagined that there would be honey on her gloves. Would her mouth taste like honey, too?

Without thinking, he takes a deep breath and bends down.

_Oh, God...what are they doing!_

Ed gapes at the two figures onscreen groping each other and she feels the blood rush to her face and her mouth hangs open. A fly could flutter in any minute and if she were still in her senses, then she would care. But now all she can do is gawk at the screen and gasp as she watches the woman lie on the mattress, naked, while the man – equally naked – lowers himself between her legs.

She has never watched two people making love. She's naturally curious about it, though and she's even done a lot of reading on the subject of sex but somehow she got the feeling that books did not quite cover the pleasure that the participants experienced during sexual activities. She and Russell did try to have a go at it once. It was a little more than a month ago. She latched onto him as soon as he walked through the door, and though he was not as smooth and suave as Prince Valiant appears to be, he certainly did know where to kiss her and touch her. They ended up on Al's bed and at that moment, she pushed away all thoughts that they were going to have sex on her baby brother's bed, the bed that he lies and reads and plays with kittens on when she isn't around. Ironically, just when Russell was undoing her leather pants and whispering something totally stupid about how wet she must be for him, she found that out that her period had just started.

They never spoke about it again.

But now, as she watches the prince making slow, passionate love to his betrothed – the screen has suddenly darkened for effect – she is reminded of that fervent awkwardness with Russell that night when she just wanted to know, what was this hype over sex all about? Sure, Al is curious, too and he even asked her about it once or twice but she doesn't think that she would want to discuss something like this with her brother. Not when she can have the pleasure while he cannot.

The lovers' bodies are moving together. It is a slow rhythm with erratic stresses, having rules of its own, creaking the bedsprings (why are bedsprings so noisy?). She watches breathlessly as the man increases his pace and the woman gradually screams her release. Soon the scene is over and she is blushing again with the realization that she has witnessed such an act with _Colonel Mustang._

She turns to her right and is surprised to find her cheek suddenly brushing against the thick material of his dark blue overcoat (why is he wearing an overcoat? It's not that cold outside) and his scent tickles her nostrils. Her brows furrow briefly. He smells like soap and sandalwood – very pleasant, of course – but there is also something else very distinct and familiar that she can't quite put her finger on it.

Tentatively, she looks up to find his dark eyes staring at her intensely and there's this look on his handsome (_no, he is _not_ handsome_) face that suddenly makes her throat feel parched like she hasn't had any water in days. One side of his face is illuminated by the screen and the other side is darkened by the near absence of light in the room and her lips part in a feeling that she can't really identify. Fear? Desire? No, there is no way that she desires this ostentatious, supercilious bastard of a colonel, so fear it is.

And then she realizes that in the course of her musings, somehow his lips have traveled close to hers, too close to be appropriate, too close of her liking, for she can feel his breath on her face and his hair brushing against hers.

She swallows. "W-what are you doing?" she squawks nervously but she doesn't bother to move away from him because it's like his dark gaze has pinned her to her spot like a nail in a piece of wood.

Roy starts as if he has just broken out of a trance and he blinks at her a few times in confusion. Seeing her face next to his, lips close enough to touch with his own makes him realize what was about to happen and he quickly draws back, as though recoiling from a mousetrap.

It would be like a mousetrap, he realizes, if he did kiss her.

He exhales, suddenly tired and low, and he closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose to hide his blush. He has never blushed in the teen's presence and he doesn't need to begin now. He has a reputation to maintain and while he doesn't mind being known for a devilishly handsome and charming skirtchaser, he _would_ mind being known for a devilishly handsome and charming _pedophiliac_ skirtchaser.

_Fullmetal is not one of your conquests. Do not view her as such._

He goes back to watching the movie, only to find out that it is finished. Damn. And he didn't even get to see if the prince ended up with the castle maid or not.

Not that it was a really good movie, of course, though the sex scene was pretty entertaining. But he is just glad that she hasn't transmuted him in a toilet seat. He finds that she's still staring at him with a mistrustful look in her eyes and she has every right not to trust him, not when he makes eyes at a _child_.

"The picture's over," he finds himself saying although she can see that for herself.

She briefly purses her lips and gets to her feet and starts walking away slowly. And Roy feels that she is somehow motioning him to follow her, which he does, much like a sailor going to his doom.

But when they are out the door and the ticket vendor has blanched at the sight of them, it feels like Roy is leading the way and Edward is following him like a good dog. They say nothing to each other for a while, both still feeling disconcerted from their earlier, unexpected proximity in the darkened theatre and perhaps they fear that if they open their mouths then they'll say something that they don't want to.

So they stick to silence as a safety net for the time being.

They walk for about ten minutes before Roy stops to stand before the national courthouse, hands safely tucked in his pockets, head raised upwards. Uncertainly and curiously, Ed follows his gaze to find out what he is looking at with so much interest.

It is the Amestrian flag.

She's seen it several times (hell, the image on the flag is engraved on her silver pocket watch, which she could really use right now, but knows that there's no point asking for it back before the two weeks are over) but she can't help wondering why the Colonel would abruptly stop here just to gaze at it.

And right then, oddly enough, she gets her answer.

"Ever wonder why the Amestrian flag looks like a dragon barfing?" he remarks casually, as though he were commenting on the weather in Liore, or something else no one really cares about.

Ed's head whips to her side to gape at him in astonishment and then she starts laughing.

He looks at her curiously. "What's so funny?" he asks.

"N-nothing," she says between breaths, grinning after she has recovered. "It's just that...what you said what really funny. I never expected you to say something like that."

He is darkly amused. "Ah."

_Oh, Fullmetal, prodigy that you are, there are so many things that you don't know about me, like I never had the courage to do in Ishbal what you did in Drachma, that I thought about performing human transmutation, that I still wonder why Hughes didn't tell me – that I _lust _after you._

"That was pretty funny," she says, looking so relaxed in his company all of a sudden, like they're old friends. "I didn't think of it like that." She glances at the flag and smiles.

He wants to take her in his arms and kiss that smile of hers.

"Well, I do have a sense of humor," he says playfully. And then he hopes that he didn't sound seductive because the distrustfulness is back in her eyes.

_Fullmetal is your subordinate officer, she is not one of your conquests._

"Yeah," she says slowly, nodding. "It's hilarious."

He rolls his eyes at her sarcasm. They stand there among the crowd of people, regarding each other inquisitively and then he decides to ask, "How're you spending your leave, Fullmetal?"

She tenses up and narrows her eyes. "You make it sound like I'm on a vacation or something. You suspended me, remember?"

"That's true," he nods, choosing his words carefully. "And there was good reason to, as you recall."

"Yeah, sure," she grouses with a tilt of her head, running her gloved fingers through her hair in a gesture that is maddeningly sexual. "I suppose it was wrong of me to not want to kill those prisoners even though I was ordered to, huh?"

There is bitterness in her voice that makes him wince. It is the bitterness of an adult who has seen and gone through more that they ever wanted to. Children should not be so bitter.

He opens his mouth to say something but she interrupts, stepping forward and closing the distance between them. She pokes her finger irately in his chest. "You know," she gripes under her breath, "I really thought you would understand..."

He looks down at her muted, not knowing what to say, how to explain things to her.

_Charred flesh, smoke, fire..._

_I lacked the courage..._

He decides to say the safest thing he can to her. "You disobeyed an order, Fullmetal." His eyes betray no emotion; he's said this to her before but he doesn't know what else he can tell her because then he'll look like a hypocrite and a coward and he doesn't want it to come to that. "There's nothing I can do."

Ed glowers at him, eyes momentarily clouding with hurt and betrayal, like she trusted him the way she would trust a fellow soldier to cover her back in the battlefield, and he feels shattered like a glass vase. _Please don't look at me like that._

She grits her teeth as though she wants to say something to him and then she just turns around and walks away.

He stares at her, feeling hollow and ashamed.

_I'm so sorry, Ed._


	4. Surprises and Automail

In violent times  
You shouldn't have to sell your soul  
In black and white  
They really really ought to know  
Those one track minds  
That took you for a working boy  
Kiss them goodbye  
You shouldn't have to jump for joy

Tears for Fears, "Shout"

Ed hasn't seen or heard from Mustang since that day and she's not sure if she wants to. This is the reason she hates him. She should've known that she could never trust that bastard and there's no point in feeling betrayed, not when she knows that Mustang would probably give his right arm to see her suffer.

"But that's not true, sister!" Al reasons with her when she tells him this. "You know the Colonel's helped us a lot since you became a State Alchemist."

"Oh, yeah?" she snorts indignantly, looking defiant. "Like how?"

It is early in the morning. Ed usually doesn't wake up early but these days she is too bored to even sleep. She's leaning against the pillows on her bed and Al is sitting at her feet contemplatively. It is mildly surprising how a few days ago, she was trying not to make Al feel bad about her being suspended and now, he is trying to make her not feel about being suspended. She will never know how Al manages physical expressions in that bulky metal body (maybe it's some kind of trick?). He thoughtfully scratches his head and the leather gauntlet makes a squeaky noise against the metal helmet. "For starters, he let us take the exam. He told me that I shouldn't take the oral exam because they might find out that I'm...you know," he gestures helpless to his body and again, she feels a stab of guilt through her heart. "And he's always kept our secret, too."

Ed rolls her eyes doubtfully. "Yeah, he just did that 'cause he wanted a promotion."

"There's more to that, sister, and you know it," the boy insists gently. "He's always sent us out on missions involving the Philosopher's Stone – "

"Oh, please. The bastard does that because he likes sending us out on wild goose chases and then letting me hear no end of it." But even as she says this, she can't fail to see her brother's point. He's always been the voice of reason inside Ed's head, even outside her head, like the good angel in the morality plays she's seen at Risembool, always trying to talk her out of the many hasty decisions she makes. If only she'd listened to him before trying to bring their mother back...

"Most of them were just false leads," she says angrily, glaring at the pillow before punching it.

"The Colonel's doing all he can," Al says comfortingly before he pulls away the pillow from his older sister's grip (he doesn't want to spend any money unnecessarily before she gets back on duty. He suspects that she may have found his kitty bank because recently he has a feeling that some of the money is missing and she hasn't been complaining too much about being hungry...). "I guess it's true that a lot of them were just false but I know that he's doing his best to help us out – "

"Hey!" she glowers at her younger brother, who cringes for a moment under her fiery gaze. Though she is grateful that he tries to reason with her and puts up with her short (no, _she_ is not short) temper, it is annoying that he keeps disagreeing with her. For once, why can't he just admit that Mustang is a power-hungry bastard? And why the hell did he just take away the pillow? "Whose side are you on anyway?"

"Sister, I'm just saying that you need to look at things from a more objective point of view." (How the hell does he manage to be so patient and understanding?). "We know that the Colonel didn't have choice, right? I mean...he has superiors, too..."

Sadly, that is something Ed can't argue against. She eyes him guardedly. "You're beginning to sound a lot like that creep, you know," she says, narrowing her eyes.

"Who, me?" he cries, waving his arms about frantically as if he were trying to persuade himself that if he kept doing that, he could fly. "I'm just trying to be reasonable..."

"Reasonable," she echoes, bemused, and a dangerous glint shines in her eyes and her automail hand tenses as if getting ready to attack.

"Er...you know?" he searches desperately for an answer that wouldn't end in her punching him in the helmet. Of course he can't feel pain but he just cleaned it up and he would hate for it to get dirty on the floor, if she hit him.

Not that she would ever do that.

He is saved from further facing the nefarious look in Ed's eyes when there is a rapt knock on the door. He quickly gets to his feet. "I'll get it," he says eagerly, grateful to put some distance between him and his sister.

Both their mouths drop open when they see who it is.

Al recovers first.

"Uh, hi, Winry," he awkwardly raises an arm and scratches the back of the helmet, again producing that squeaky noise and this time, Ed winces. He laughs nervously and steps aside for the pretty blonde girl to come in.

"Hey, Al, Ed," Winry smiles. There are dark circles under her eyes and her long blond hair is messed up as though she has just woken up from sleep. Judging from her appearance, he deduces that she took the night train from Risembool and he is suddenly curious about why she's here.

Winry is wearing her usual jacket and short skirt and she is carrying a toolbox in her right hand and a huge suitcase in the other.

Ed's eyes fly open as soon as she sees the toolbox. Looking as though she is about to be executed, she scoots up against the bed post, hands groping desperately for more pillows. There are none and she notices with a sinking feeling that all the pillows are on Al's bed. _Fuck_.

"I didn't wreck my automail!" she squeals. It sounds so ridiculous in her ears because she has the courage to go through a lot of things but she's afraid to face her wrench-flinging (insane) friend.

_If you're afraid to face her, why is she your friend?_

_Shut up. She's obviously never hit you on the head with a wrench. _

_I _am_ your head._

_Oh. Right._

Winry sighs. "You know, that isn't the only reason I'd come and visit you, Ed." When she notices that Ed is still cringing, she turns to Al. "What's up with her?"

"Sister's just being paranoid," he explains, amusement evident in his voice.

Winry looks at Ed distrustfully. "Did you by any chance wreck the automail?" Her hand threatening starts to open the toolbox.

"No, no, I didn't, I swear!" says Ed, thrusting out her automail arm. "Here, you can see for yourself!"

"Good," says Winry, thankfully leaving the toolbox alone. "Because the last time I told you that I wouldn't fix it anymore if you kept being careless with it."

"Kept being careless – " Ed turns pale with rage and disbelief that Winry even dared to make such an assumption. "You think I get it trashed on purpose, you psychotic, metal-loving freak?"

"Who're you calling psychotic, you overgrown midget?" Winry retorts, stiffening and clenching her fists.

"Who're you calling so small she'd be overweighed by your stupid automail?"

"Stupid automail? Why, you little – "

"Don't call me little!"

Al stands behind them, suddenly feeling out of place and he exhales resignedly because he's seen this show a thousand times before, ever since he was four. Ed and Winry may be the best of friends but sometimes they fight like a...couple.

He blushes and tries to banish that thought from his...helmet. _Okay, let's not go there._

"Uh, girls?" he breaks in gently, hesitating. Their fight has become louder and he has no wish to disturb the other soldiers living in the dorm. He feels paternal towards the both of them sometimes, like a parent intervening in a fight between two stubborn children.

They turn towards them abruptly, twin eyes glaring at him. "What?" they snap in unison.

He starts. "N-nothing." He takes a step backwards as he holds out his hands in surrender and all of a sudden, he feels cornered like a cat. God above, it isn't easy to deal with two petulant blonds in the same room at the same time. He decides to change the subject and try to distract them from arguing over whose hair is blonder (how the hell did they go all the way there from automail?). "So how've you been, Winry?" he asks tactfully. "We don't see much you around here."

"Yeah," Winry seems to have calmed down now and she moves to sit on his bed, one hand on her slim hip. His eyes follow the shape of her slender legs as she crosses them and she has no idea that right now she looks like a movie star, so beautiful and confident and vibrant while he is dull and hollow, and she'll never look at him; so he must be content admiring her from a distance like an adoring fan.

"I just heard that Ed got back from Drachma," Winry is saying. She gives her friend a sharp look. "And you never even told me!"

Ed leans back against a propped pillow and settles her hardened gaze on her bare feet. "Yeah, well, shit happened. I just didn't feel like talking to anyone."

Winry raises an eyebrow, her curiosity peaked. "Oh?"

Ed fidgets but says nothing, scowl ever-present on her face.

"How's the situation there?" Winry asks tentatively.

"Great," Ed replies bitterly. "Just great, if you're into hiding in trenches and listening to gunshots flare nearby and smelling blood, then yeah, Drachma was real fun."

Winry looks downcast and she looks down for a moment, perhaps reminded of her parents, who died in Ishbal. "You know, Granny and I were really worried about you," she says softly. "Especially when we heard that some State Alchemists had died. And when we heard that the war was over, we thought you'd call us or something. But when we didn't hear anything from you...we got so scared...we were expecting the worse."

Ed meets her friend's gaze, surprised at such a clear confession, and it is her turn to look down, ashamed. "I'm sorry," she says sincerely. "I should've told you guys I was okay. But when I got back, I..." she trails off her sentence and looks away, aggravation lucid in her eyes. She doesn't reply when Winry asks her what's wrong.

Finally Winry turns to Al, who has now come to stand beside her and he clumsily sits down on the mattress, trying to be close to her and not close to her at the same time. "What happened with Ed?" she wants to know, eyes widening in concern.

Al looks at Ed as though asking for her permission but she says nothing and continues to stubbornly look at neither of them. He takes a deep breath and decides to come out with it:

"Sister got suspended."

"Suspended!" Winry's mouth drops open. "But why? Why would she be suspended?"

"Because I didn't do something I was ordered to," Ed speaks for the first time in the last five minutes. Her eyes are still on her feet, legs stretched out before her but her mind is faraway, reliving war-torn memories in the snow.

"A general told me transmute a holding cell into a gas chamber because he wanted to scare the Drachman soldiers," she continues, her voice quiet and husky as Al and Winry listen carefully. "We had all these prisoners locked up there. They hadn't been fed for days. Some of them were not even soldiers...they were just women and children. I thought we should let them go but Harrison...he wouldn't...he said we shouldn't show them any mercy. He wanted to have them killed just so that the Drachmans gave up. But I just couldn't do it!" Her voice tightens as she remembers how the homunculi nearly forced her to make a Philosopher's Stone in Lab Five, using the condemned prisoners as a sacrifice. She'd failed them the way she failed the general.

And she isn't even sorry about it.

Everyone is quiet for a moment and Winry stares at Ed, open-mouthed while Al shuffles his feet. She then reaches out and puts a comforting hand on the other girl's shoulder.

"Oh, Ed," she says softly, her blue eyes filled with compassion and understanding. "You did the right thing."

Ed sighs. She knows that the right thing is just not good enough for the goddamned military but she doesn't regret her decision. Perhaps she is wrong to have expected any kind of help or sympathy from Mustang.

Abruptly the image of his dark eyes staring into the very depths of her soul, head bent over, mouth mere inches away from hers, flashes in her mind's eye and makes her heart lurch in her breast. She flinches a bit. _Why did it look like he was going to kiss me? _Why did Mustang act so acquiescent that day, as though he were expecting her to be angry and was prepared for any insult she might throw at him?

She meets Winry's blue eyes. "Yeah," she says distractedly. "Yeah, I was lucky that I didn't get court-martialed." As she watches her friend's forehead start to crease at this statement, she quickly decides to change the subject. She is tired of thinking of that same incident and telling the story over and over again, and she now wants to focus on something that has nothing to do with the military. Or Mustang.

_Get a grip of yourself. Everything's gonna be fine. Just another week to go. And you won't make things any better for Al if you keep moping! Just another week and things will go back to normal and you can go back to looking for the Philosopher's Stone. You _will _get your bodies back, no matter what._

"So how are things at home?" she asks with a thin smile.

"They're fine," says Winry, crossing her legs casually. "Den was sick the other day but that's all fine now." She brightens suddenly. "Oh, did I tell you? He has puppies now!"

"Aww," says Al, unable to keep the wonder and longing from his voice.

"Yup," Winry grins, "we even built a kennel for the puppies and their mom. You two should come over and see them some time...they're so cute!" She turns to Ed, expression changing to show that a thought has suddenly come over her. "Hey...why don't you guys go to Risembool with me?"

Ed is surprised by the suggestion. "Go to Risembool?" It is the last thing she has on her mind, especially under the current circumstances. "Now?" She's been sitting at home for most of the past week. It never occurred to her that she could go and see how people are doing back home.

"Yeah, why not?" Winry smiles. "You don't have to go to HQ for another week, right? I mean, you're suspended and it's not like anyone's going to come looking for you."

Ed's face falls a bit at this offhand remark and for the briefest of instants, she feels like soldier who has come back from a war, shamed. That would be quite close to the truth, except that she doesn't really feel ashamed.

Winry twitches and leans forward to put a comforting hand on Ed's knee, realizing what she has just said. "I'm sorry, Ed, you know I didn't mean it that way..."

"No, no, it's fine," Ed shakes her head and clears her throat. She looks at her brother. "Do you want to go, Al?"

"Well..." says Al hesitantly, "I guess we could go...if you want to."

"Do you want to go?"

He seems to be uncertain for a second and then he eagerly shakes, metal rattling. It makes Ed laugh and nod.

"Okay," she says to Winry. "By the way, what's with the toolbox – I think we have it clear that my arm's fine?"

"I brought it along just in case," Winry answers, amused. "And it's not just for you, silly. It's for the competition."

"Competition?" Al echoes.

"There's a company looking for automail engineers to train here," Winry explains. "There's going to be a fair here tomorrow...just a few blocks away. And I need to show them some of my work..." she looks at Ed, expectant and sheepish at the same time.

"That's great," says Al. "You got all the automail parts, right?"

"Um, actually, I was going to talk to you about that," says Winry, fiddling with the material of her skirt, which makes Ed suspicious. "I was wondering if you could be my er...display?"

"What do you mean, display?" Ed gripes. "I did that for you at Rush Valley, remember?"

"Yeah, but, I really wanna show them how yours works because they're my best automail!" Winry protests. "All the other automail engineers are just going to have the parts but with you, I can show them how experienced I am! Please, Ed, do this for me, I'll never ask you for anything again..."

"You said that last time, Winry," Ed retorts. "But okay."

Roy is leaning against his desk, having coffee and looking out the window when Fuery comes and hands him an envelope.

He looks at the shorter man questioningly. "What's this?"

"It's one of the automail manufacturing companies at Central City, sir," Fuery explains. "They're going to have a fair tomorrow at the City Square in the afternoon and they request for your presence there. General Hakuro is already going and the Fuhrer might be there, too."

Roy frowns. "Why they want military personnel at an automail fair?" he wants to know, tearing open the envelope and skimming through it.

"I'm not sure, sir. I think it's because of the competition – the winner will receive special training from the company, as well as a high-paying job at the end of the training."

"That's really impressive. But I don't think I'll be able to go." He gestures towards the stack of paperwork on his desk, lying untouched. "Lieutenant Hawkeye might object."

"I think she might go, too, sir," Fuery informs him. "She seemed pretty interested when she heard about it."

"Really?" Roy raises an eyebrow, still looking at the invitation card.

_It's an automail fair._

Fullmetal might be there.


	5. My Fair Lady

Stop making the eyes at me; I'll stop making the eyes at you  
What it is that surprises me, Is that I don't really want you to

Arctic Monkeys, "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor"

Edward is unpleasantly reminded of Rush Valley in the heat of the crowd at the fair in the afternoon sun. Honestly, there are more pleasant times to have a fair. Like the mornings. Or the evenings. Or some other time when the sunlight doesn't feel like fire on one's skin. Why would anyone sane hold a fair on a rainy day? And isn't it supposed to rain today?

The sun begs to differ for it is shining brighter and hotter than ever and she wipes off the beads of sweat from her forehead. Her blond bangs stick to her forehead and the sides of her face annoyingly. She will need a shower once this is over.

The fair is bigger than she expected, with dozens of stalls lining either side of the street, filled with aspiring automail engineers eagerly displaying the steel prosthetic limbs on the counters. She shifts uncomfortably beside Winry, who has just finished setting up her own stall. Winry is now setting her automail parts on a small table and Ed wonders why she needs _her_ when she has _these._

Winry goes to stand outside and she is smiling and waving at familiar faces in the crowd, faces that Ed suspects they've seen at Rush Valley, faces that she herself doesn't care to see again. Memories of having Winry show off her automail limbs there are not pleasant ones, but maybe Ed took off her jacket at Rush Valley because she wouldn't stand out so much there.

She was wrong.

Sure the spectators were impressed at the fine craftsmanship (making Winry blush and swell with pride) and they wanted to take a closer look at it (making Ed wish she had never let her friend tag along with them), awed by the great condition of the steel (Winry is a great automail engineer, why the hell does she need this apprenticeship, anyway? And how does Aunt Pinako feel about it?) but Ed personally doesn't like to have the reminders of her transgression flaunted in public as if they were something to be proud of. Nevertheless she will do this for Winry because Winry is her best friend (all right, so maybe they haven't been in touch so often lately but Ed considers her like a sister) and she will do this for Winry because she has caused her friend enough pain by ruining the automail (that was Scar's fault) and not calling to say that she is well and alive after Drachma (that was Mustang's fault).

Al is a few yards away from them, looking interestedly at the automail and even asking questions to the stall owners about how they work. Ed didn't think that Al would be so interested in automail seeing how he was never too curious about hers, but perhaps the proud display of so many mechanical limbs of various designs has aroused in him a peak of interest, a new thirst for knowledge and this makes Ed smile.

She turns to look at Winry, who is grinning at a young man whose stall is opposite hers.

"Friend of yours?" she asks wryly.

"Oh, you mean, Terry?" Winry looks at her friend. "Well, yeah, I know him back from Rush Valley. We went out a couple of times – nothing serious, really."

But Ed notices the blush that has risen in Winry's cheeks and she is suddenly grateful that Al isn't here.

"So how are things going between you and Russell?" Winry wants to know as she takes out a piece of cloth smeared in machine oil and starts polishing the gleaming surfaces of Ed's automail one last time (she's done that six times already, it's getting real creepy; now Ed knows how Al felt the day she polished his armor several times).

"Fine, just fine," Ed says nonchalantly. She has already taken off her jacket because a) it is too hot and b) Winry insisted, and pathetically has not managed to keep her pants on at Winry's persistence that Ed show off her automail leg as well. Ed hates this idea of taking something off to _show off_ because for God's sake, she is a State Alchemist, not an underwear model like the willowy brunettes on the covers of the magazines she's seen Havoc reading sometimes (what is it with men and naked women anyway? To her, it's something perverse). So now, she is wearing a black miniskirt (one of Winry's) that comes up to her kneecaps but rides up when she sits down.

_Mustang will have a fit,_ she thinks in wry amusement since she is well-aware that that he plans to make all female officers wear "tiny miniskirts" (aren't miniskirts already tiny?) the day he becomes Fuhrer but she has already planned to leave the military before that day comes.

"Stop pulling at the skirt so much, Ed," Winry chides her. "You'll make a tear."

"Yeah?" Ed quips, ignoring the other girl's pleas as she keeps trying to cover her knees with the short material.

"So did he come to see you after you got back?"

"Who?"

"Russell."

"Oh...um, yeah, he did. He didn't stay for long, though."

"Hmm." Winry nods and continues with her polishing. Ed momentarily stops pulling at the skirt and looks at her automail arm. It's disconcerting to see that when she looks at it, she finds a familiar pair of amber eyes staring back at her. _Like a mirror._ She watches as Winry bends down to polish her automail leg. Russell is really the last thing she wants to talk about (maybe she should break up with him since she thinks of him as a thing and not a person). She tries to avoid talking about him with Winry especially because Winry seems to have some deluded idea that since they have so much in common, they are surely meant to be together and pigs will start to fly soon.

Winry has now finished polishing the metal and now they are sitting together on a low wooden bench that Al moved there earlier. Al is no longer admiring the automail. As a matter of fact, he is not in sight at the moment but Ed doesn't mind as long as he doesn't get himself into trouble.

Not that he usually does, of course.

He is probably playing with a kitten.

Is Central full of kitties?

Ed makes a little face when she hears Winry mentioning Russell again; she wants to end the topic once and for all and so, she decides to come up with the truth:

"I'm actually thinking of breaking up with him."

Winry is visibly shocked. "Break up with him?" she exclaims. "Why? I thought you liked him, Ed."

Ed winches and fidgets with her skirt again. She's never been comfortable talking about her love life with Winry and mostly certainly not with Al because he's her kid brother and he's too young to understand relationships despite the fact that he has a little crush on Winry.

"Well..." she says cautiously, "not really. And don't ask me why I decided to go out with him in the first place!"

"Is it the distance?" Winry asks innocently.

"No," says Ed curtly. "I just...don't like him. He gets under my nerves. He fucking stole my identity! I mean, anyone can see that the real Edward Elric is a girl!"

That just sounds wrong because Winry quirks an eyebrow in amusement and Ed flushes. She is however grateful that the other girl doesn't continue the conversation and they are both left to watch the crowd intermingle.

She really shouldn't have worn the miniskirt.

"Isn't it supposed to be raining today?" Havoc asks, chewing at the yellow end of his cigarette.

Roy looks blankly at the newspaper, where all he finds is a depressing article in the weather section about the death of a psychotic fisherman who went on a fishing trip on a Xingian desert without being adequately prepared.

_The story makes absolutely no sense because you can't go fishing in the desert._

He has heard the stories to, about there being a big storm in Central City, right about the place where they are standing now. He folds the newspaper and puts it away. "There's nothing here about the storms. It's probably just a rumor." Though he has never let a rumor slip away, always investigating it because there's usually a trace of truth in all rumors.

There are stalls all over the place and he can see the light reflecting off the smooth metal surfaces, like blinding sunshine. He wonders what he is doing here with Havoc when he could've brought along a dainty a young lady from the secretary pool (they sure were giving him some suspicious, yearning looks when he left the office with the second lieutenant). He watches idly as the smoke is emitted from the burning end of Havoc's cigarette in long, serpentine gray swirls and he is reminded of how hot it is today. He could really do with a storm right now.

Havoc is smiling charmingly at some well-dressed young women who walk past them but they seem to have eyes only for Roy because as soon as he glances at them – albeit disinterestedly – they start giggling and making eyes at him. Havoc scowls at the colonel, who sighs. This is another reason he doesn't want to be seen in public with Havoc. Honestly, could you blame him if women find him more attractive than Havoc? Roy is well aware that his second lieutenant is torn between jealousy and admiration for him – jealousy because he gets all the girls and admiration because he's sworn to make female officers wear miniskirts when he becomes Fuhrer (he's almost too scared to tell the other man that it was just a joke because he doesn't need another reason for his subordinates to hate him).

One of the girls is blonde, Roy notices, and she has braided her hair with a bright red ribbon, the dark shade setting up a stark contrast with the gold hue and he is reminded of another blonde beauty that disturbs his most private thoughts, thoughts that he won't admit even to himself.

Thank the Powers That Be that Havoc has changed the subject because he is whistling and saying, "Wow, look at all the automail. Do you think the boss could be here today?"

Roy's face betrays no emotion at the mention of Fullmetal but he carefully avoids meeting Havoc's eyes. "She might be," he says nonchalantly. "One of her friends _is_ an automail engineer, after all."

Havoc shrugs and looks up distrustfully at the sunny sky as though he expects it to start weeping any moment.

The two soldiers make their way through the crowd and young women continue making eyes at them (mostly him) and Roy keeps ignoring them. He didn't expect so many people to be here. He wonders why people would suddenly be interested in an automail fair, of all things, when the population of Central usually shows little interest in things that don't concern them because not everyone carries burdens like he does, like memories of genocide and the desire for power.

And speaking of the Fuhrer, he is here with his faithful dogs like Hakuro, Harrison and Salem, who isn't a dog but eyes his father like one anyway. The Fuhrer is looking quiet and approachable as usual, with that ever-present enigmatic smile on his lips that shows that he knows something the others don't. (Roy suspects that Bradley must know a lot of things if he ordered the slaughter of thousands of Ishbalans for no good reason, other than the fact that some were rebelling against Amestris).

_Fire, fire, fire._

Roy salutes when the Fuhrer approaches them (Havoc has mysteriously disappeared, possibly to chat up a young woman who has finally shown some interest in him and not the colonel), like a good dog that obeys his master except that he shouldn't be called a dog because a dog does not harbor treacherous thoughts against his master.

"Ah, Colonel Mustang," the Fuhrer says pleasantly, motioning for Roy to stand at ease while the generals sneer at him. "What a pleasant surprise to run into you at fair! Are you here on curiosity or by invitation?"

Roy is slightly offended by the implications and his mouth becomes a tight line but he tries not to show his discontent. "By invitation, sir," he replies politely.

"It would be a good idea to have a bodyguard with you, Colonel," says General Harrison wisely. "These are dangerous times, after all."

"I'm sure I'll be fine," Roy says with a strained smile, eyes hardening at the obvious implication that the general thinks he's the Fuhrer's bodyguard. And that must make Hakuro Harrison's bodyguard. Ah, what a threesome they make.

"Well, we'll be off then, Colonel," says the Fuhrer, mildly, taking his little son by the hand. "Would you like to join us?"

Roy notices Havoc coming towards them, looking dejected probably because the girl wasn't interested in him after and was only using him just to get to _him_ and for a moment, he is torn between two unattractive options – go with the Fuhrer and act like one of his dogs, or stay behind to comfort a subordinate who is unlucky in love. After an internal struggle, he decides to do something that falls in between. "In a minute, sir."

"Very well," the Fuhrer nods and moves on with the general. Hakuro scowls at Roy and he is briefly tempted to stick out his tongue at him. Protocol and maturity prevents him from doing such a thing unfortunately and very soon, he is left alone in Havoc's company.

"So what happened?" he asks, gesturing with his chin at the girl who is now buying cotton candy.

"She has a husband," Havoc sighs sadly and takes a deep drag of his cigarette, looking really upset and Roy doesn't know what to say to comfort him because he is more used to being comforted and Hughes used to do a great job at that.

"Oh well," is all that comes out of his mouth. Maes was so much better at this.

As soon as the thought of Hughes crosses his mind, Roy sees Gracia and Elysia come into sight with a smile on their faces. Elysia is grinning and eating cotton candy happily while she stares wide-eyed at all the automail around them. Gracia is more composed. She is smiling, looking happy and calm but only Roy can see the sadness in her eyes because of her husband's absence and he feels as if he is being impaled.

"Hello, Gracia," he smiles at her.

Gracia stops, startled. "Roy, what a pleasant surprise!"

Elysia looks up at him with wide blue eyes and hides herself behind her mother's skirt. Roy shrugs and smiles at Gracia.

"What are you doing here, Mrs. Hughes?" Havoc asks, putting out his cigarette out of courtesy. Roy rolls his eyes. Havoc will not put out his cigarette at work until Hawkeye threatens to shoot him between the balls but he will put out his cigarette because a lovely lady is here. Roy doesn't know if he should be annoyed or exasperated.

"Oh, I'm here because of Ed and Al," Gracia explains with a shrug. "Their friend Winry is here, too."

"Ed...Al...Winry?" Roy raises an eyebrow, finally having found who he was looking for (not really, he is curious as to whether they'd be here or not). "You're here because of them?"

"Yes, I've invited them to stay over at my house tonight," says Gracia. "It's been a while since I've seen them...and you know that it gets a little lonely sometimes..." she looks down and Roy's heart breaks.

Havoc changes the subject. Sort of. "So the boss is here? We haven't seen her."

"Big sisters are right over there," Elysia speaks up for the first time and she turns back and points at a little stall at the near end of the line where Roy sees the Fuhrer standing and observing something with the generals.

He should've gone when Bradley asked him.

While Gracia chides her daughter for pointing, Roy mumbles "excuse me" and leaves.

Ed is dreaming of rain. Cool sleek rain falling down in silk sheets, soaking her hair and her clothes and filling her as she opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue to taste. It feels like ice. There's a boy standing beside her. He looks like her and after a while she realizes that it's Al back in his human body. His sandy brown hair looks darker because it is wet and he's taller than her (which is all right because he is a guy and she is not short) and his blue eyes are lit with joy and wonder as he's now able to feel the rain against his skin after so many years of being trapped in a body of steel. He's now finally free, holding her hand and he's saying something but she doesn't understand him because it's raining too hard. Then he touches her chin and turns around and suddenly, she's faced with Mustang. His black hair is wet, too and it reminds her of the storm clouds gathered in the sky. And then he does something that surprises her – slowly, he bends down and softly presses his lips against hers...

Ed is woken up by the human hand whipping out and dragging her up harshly. She blinks. "What the fuck – " she starts groggily, wincing at the harsh sunlight. She fell asleep because of the heat, finding a pleasant escape in a dream of rain and Al in his human..._why the hell was Mustang there and why was he kissing her?_

She glares at Winry through the grogginess but Winry isn't looking at her. She looks her friend's awed gaze to find the Fuhrer standing before their stall, looking amused. Behind him are Hakuro and Harrison, looking smug and superior. Behind them is the bastard Mustang himself.

The words escape her mouth even before she can stop them, like a rat shooting out of a trap:

"Oh, shit."

Fullmetal is in a miniskirt.

Perhaps in another lifetime, Roy would have ogled at the sight, like many other men but now all he wants to do is take off his coat and drape it around her shoulders so that she can cover herself. He keeps his calm as he watches his very attractive (and much younger, he reminds himself) subordinate wearing a black miniskirt, flustering under the curious, amused 1000-watt gaze of hundreds of eyes, including those of him, the generals and the Fuhrer. Why is Edward dressed like this? And then he realizes that Winry is an automail engineer and she probably wanted to parade the other girl around. Winry looks over-enthusiastic as the Fuhrer asks her questions and Ed pulls at her skirt again, obviously uncomfortable.

Roy eyes the blonde mechanic, whose parents he murdered (the official word is 'executed' but that doesn't even begin to cover half of what he did) but she doesn't need to know that, not when she probably has such a bright future.

Yes, let the past remain buried and rear its ugly head to taunt him because he deserves it, not her (why should someone else suffer for his cowardice?).

_You never even asked why..._

_Blood pooling around a photo frame encasing the picture of a pretty little girl holding a teddy bear – such a sunny image in grim surroundings._

How the hell can he look her in the eye and talk to her after –

_Gunshot in the dark, almost-empty room, thumps of two bodies hitting the cold floor, Lord, there's so much blood that it stinks and maybe there's some on his uniform, too..._

Havoc has appeared out of nowhere, providing a welcome distraction. His cigarette has dropped from his lips when he sees Fullmetal wearing a miniskirt and he breathes, "Wow."

Roy resists the urge to punch him.

"The boss in a miniskirt," Havoc searches his pockets for another cigarette. "I never thought I'd see something like that."

At that moment, Roy forgets his annoyance and smiles wryly, glad that he is not too close for anyone else to hear. "My days of becoming Fuhrer are near."

Winry won.

It was obviously, really, judging from the way she kept wriggling Ed's automail before the Fuhrer and the judges were clearly impressed at how accomplished and young she was and in the end, they awarded her with the apprenticeship.

That was the good part.

Now comes the bad part.

Ed must be psychic or something because as soon as the fair was over and people started to pack up their stuff and leave, it started raining. She went to the restroom to change, only to find that someone had stolen her bag. Now she is stuck in the rain, wearing an inadequate tank top and a short skirt. She knows that the automail will start to rust if left out in water too long but she sees Winry and Al nowhere in sight and wonders where they have gone off to. Her day was just going fine until she saw that bastard Harrison looking at her lewdly (okay, maybe that wasn't the right word) and then there was Mustang, the miniskirt-lover and _he_ had this unreadable look in those deep, dark eyes when he was staring at her in the afternoon, making her want to crawl in a hole where he could never find her.

"Fullmetal!"

Ed spins around to find Mustang behind her with an umbrella in his hand. His hair looks damp, just like in her dream...

"What the hell are you doing here?" she growls, teeth clattering in the rain.

Mustang walks up to her, ignoring her question. "Alphonse and Miss Rockbell have gone with Gracia..."

"What?" Ed bellows, turning white. "And they left me here?"

"Alphonse told me that they couldn't find you," he explains, coat blowing in the harsh wind. "I told them to go along..."

"YOU TOLD THEM TO LEAVE ME HERE?"

"The storm was getting worse, Fullmetal, you know that your brother's blood seal could've washed off!" he snaps, eyes flashing.

"They could've at least looked for me!" she retorts furiously.

"They did! They couldn't find you."

"I was in the washroom."

"Well, maybe you should've told them that before!" Mustang huffs and he takes a deep breath. "Come on, I'm taking you back to my place."

"What the fuck do you mean, bastard?" she demands suspiciously, not sure if she heard that right.

"The storm's gotten really bad in case you didn't notice, Fullmetal," he tells her. "I wouldn't advise you to travel too far right now..."

"Forget it!" she steps away from him and sits indignantly on a small rising on the ground. The dirty rainwater splashes on his uniform, making him frown. "I'll stay here, thank you very much."

"You will do no such thing!" he says, surprised at her declaration.

"Oh, yeah?" she challenges him. "Watch me!"

He does something totally unexpected.

He reaches down, takes hold of her flesh arm (she gasps at the sensation from the feel of his fingers against her bare skin) and pulls her to her feet.

"What the hell, Mustang – " she starts angrily but there's this look in his eyes, the same look she saw in her dream this afternoon and despite the rainwater streaming into her mouth, her throat feels parched all of a sudden as she finds herself pressed lightly against his chest.

"You are _not_ staying here!" he grits out and gently, but firmly pushes her in front of him so that she is also under the umbrella now. He tells her in a few curt words that he has managed to secure a cab for them a few moments earlier and they walk towards it, Ed supposedly leading the way. She suspects that he is making her walk in front of him so that he can gawk at her legs, pervert that he is, but then she feels something heavy around her shoulders and she finds that Mustang has given her his coat.

This unexpected gesture astonishes her to no end and when she looks up at him, dumbfounded, he is not looking at her. Instead, he gives the cab driver instructions to his place, which, he tells her quietly, is nearer. They get in and the cab starts moving.

"Don't take that tone with me," she glares at him, scowling deeply. I'm not one of your girls, Mustang."

He meets her eyes, unfazed. "I never said you were," he says, not missing a beat.


	6. Dinner and Slumber

Do you eat, sleep, do you breathe me anymore?  
Do you sleep, do you count sheep anymore?  
Do you sleep anymore?

Lisa Loeb, "Do you sleep"

Gracia is a really good cook. Or so Winry says.

Because all Al is able to do is sit at the table and watch the other three munch beef sausages, vanilla custard and apple pie and some other stuff that he forgets the names of while he just throws the food in through his helmet. Elysia stops eating to look at him. He laughs nervously.

Gracia has never asked him why he wears a suit of armor all the time – perhaps she thought that it wouldn't be polite to ask such a personal question. Al can't obviously taste the food but he compliments her anyway, wishing that he could tell her the truth. Maybe someday. Till then, he'd have to settle for them thinking that he is somebody with a really weird armor fetish.

The rain has almost stopped outside; it is now only a slight drizzle and the water reflects moonlight as it falls gently from the sky. Al sits near the window and watches the rain as Winry and Gracia talk about apple pie and chocolate cake recipes, which would have interested him if he could still eat. Gracia offered them some coffee but he had to decline, making up some excuse that he can't sleep if he has coffee. Truth be told, Al has never had coffee. His mother hated it and Izumi said it might stunt the growth of children (something that pissed Ed off beyond reason). He imagines it must be something quite delectable if people want to have it both in the morning and at night.

He still can't help feeling responsible somehow for Hughes' death and he thinks about it every now and then. Ed feels even worse. She stayed up that night, crying, trembling and he hadn't known what to say to her to make her feel better.

"It's our fault he died," she said to him. "If only we hadn't told him about the Philosopher's Stone..."

It wasn't like her to regret something so emotionally like this. She never cried so much after their failed human transmutation. Rather, her amber eyes were lit with determination that she would restore their bodies, no matter what. He knows that she wasn't too comfortable with the idea of spending the night at Gracia's place, but Gracia insisted, making her unable to say no.

Then Ed was sort of looking forward to this.

"How could we have lost her?" Winry demanded in the car. "Where did she go?" Her blue eyes were wide with worry and even Al was fidgeting over where his older sister had suddenly disappeared off to in the rain.

"Don't worry," said Gracia, who looked very worried. "I told Roy to go find her. I'm sure she's fine."

Elysia looked back through the window but said nothing. She looked pretty worried, too.

Al felt a little better after hearing that and he was expecting the Colonel to drop Ed at Gracia's place some time soon. And then, just before dinner, Ed called, saying that it was raining too hard and she might have to stay over at the bastard's place tonight (she wasn't too quiet about calling him a bastard in his apartment and that made Al wince).

"She's spending the night at Colonel Mustang's?" Winry asked. Something about the question just sounded dirty and it brought images to Al's mind that he tried desperately to push out; he really didn't want to think of his sister and the Colonel like _that_.

"Ed's spending the night at Roy's?" Gracia echoed some time later and Al winced again (why couldn't they phrase the question in a way that wouldn't make him think of them like _that_?). "That's a shame. I know how much your sister likes to eat, but Roy's a good cook."

"Uh...is he?" Al tried to sound interested. Maybe that way, Ed and the Colonel wouldn't end up killing each other.

"Oh, yes." Gracia was holding a bowl of cake mix or some such in her arms, whipping it diligently. "He even borrowed one of my cookbooks...a few months ago. He hasn't returned it yet."

"That's interesting," Winry smiled. "I've never really met a man who liked to cook."

_Please tell me we are _not _having this conversation._

Al hasn't spent much time apart from his sister and he finds himself missing her now. He was looking forward to their little sleepover tonight. They used to have sleepovers back at Risembool, when they were children and life was less complicated. He hasn't been able to talk to Winry much since she came to Central since she was busy with the fair but now that that's over, maybe they can spend some time together...

He gulps at that thought.

_Together._

Ed isn't here – it hits him like the rock of reality that she really _is_ spending the night at the Colonel's (_somebody please get these horrible images out of his head before he goes crazy!)_.

That means he and Winry will be all alone.

Together.

In a dark bedroom.

"Are you sure you want to sleep together?" Gracia asks before they retire. It is getting late and Winry is obviously tired because she looks sort of drowsy and she stifles a yawn. "I could always clean up the other room if it's too much trouble."

_God, what is wrong with these people? Can't they put things in a non-sexual way?_

Al doesn't know what to say. He hopes that Winry will say no...well, he half-hopes that she will say no.

Winry, unfazed, replies with a reassuring smile and a wave of her hand, "Oh, it's no trouble at all, Mrs. Hughes. We've done this before. Al's like my brother."

Al isn't sure how he feels about that.

He isn't sure about how he feels about the two of them sleeping (well, Winry is the only one who'll be sleeping) in the same room, without Ed to balance things out.

It isn't only until Winry starts changing her clothes behind the shades that he gulps.

Mustang lives in a pretty simple apartment, Ed discovers when the cab arrives there. For some reason, she has always imagined that he would live in a fancy condominium or large estate like Tucker did, because after all, State Alchemists are highly-paid. (Ed is no exception. It is just her fault that she isn't good at managing her finances and Al insists firmly on being in charge of that).

His apartment is simple and a little shabby (what is she complaining about? She herself isn't exactly the queen of tidiness and the only time she did housework was during her first week of suspension. She did like it, though). There's a worn-out leather couch, a small wooden coffee-table and a shelf full of alchemic texts and other reading materials that she would have been interested in had her teeth not been clattering audibly.

Mustang looks at her and he touches her arm, making her flinch.

"I'll see if I can get you any dry clothes," he says.

"I'd be really creeped out if you had women's clothes here," Ed retorts, hugging her arms as he goes into the bedroom. "Though it wouldn't be surprising, considering your reputation," she adds under her breath.

A few minutes later, he comes back with a towel, an old T-shirt and sweatpants. She takes them and glares at him. "I hate green."

"Well, it was hard finding something your size," he replies with a little smirk.

She narrows her eyes at him. "You're making fun of my height, aren't you?"

There is a glint of dark amusement in his eyes and he simply points her to the washroom. "I'll get dinner started," he says, moving towards the kitchen.

"Yeah, you better," she calls, "'cause I'm starving." After a minute, she adds from inside the bathroom, "I like spaghetti...with meat sauce."

Ed locks the door and looks around in the dimly lit bathroom, making a note to remind Mustang later that he needs to get a new light bulb. It's a small bathroom with a toilet, a little shower cubicle and a mirror that should be cleaned. Mustang is not as vain as she imagined. There are some male accessories above the basin, like shaving cream and a razor. There's a little black bottle of aftershave, too and she curiously opens it to see what it smells like.

The scent is familiar but she can't remember where she smelled it first and then, she puts it back. She puts the clothes away and starts to pull her tank top up when she realizes that she is about to undress in Mustang's apartment.

She sneezes.

Okay, time to change clothes.

The cotton feels nice against her bare skin as she slips on his clothes and she feels oddly comfortable. Surprisingly, they fit her perfectly and she smiles a little. She looks at herself in the mirror and makes a little face because the colors are gaudy but now she knows what bad taste he has when picking his clothes and she can use this for blackmail later.

Mustang smiles and shakes his head and he puts the water to boil. Luckily for Ed, there is one packet of spaghetti left in little pantry, as well as some minced meat and tomato sauce and he sets on preparing something he learned from Gracia's cookbook.

He really should give her back the cookbook.

It is just hard for him to face her when he remembers how much Hughes loved her and Elysia (God, he was always talking about them – _No, seriously Roy, ever since my wife got pregnant, she's turned hotter than a love goddess_ and _Look at these new pictures of Elysia! Doesn't she look adorable?_). He's never met a man who loved his family as much as Hughes did. He doesn't think he ever will.

Ed steps out of the bathroom a couple of minutes later, dressed in the green T-shirt and dark orange sweatpants that strangely compliment her hair, which is now wrapped in a towel. She has left her drenched shoes by the bathroom door and she is now walking barefoot.

"Hey," she says casually. "Do you have an extra pair of sandals or something? Because your floor's cold."

He's turned around to look at her and his eyes linger on how perfectly his clothes fit her, as if they were made for her. "So they fit you," he remarks, trying to hide his admiration.

There is a moment of silence as they both realize that she has just been naked in his apartment.

"Yeah," she flashes a lopsided grin. "Guess I'm not that small, huh?"

"Are you admitting that you're small, then?" he says impishly.

She glares at him. He chuckles and turns back to his cooking. "There are some sandals near the bookshelf. Make yourself comfortable."

He hears her footsteps fade away from the kitchen and then she comes back a moment later, footfalls sounding different, softer.

"The sandals suck," she announces huffily. "But I guess they'll do for now."

He nods. He hears a thump on a chair at the kitchen table.

"I'm hungry."

He doesn't have to turn around to know that she is pouting.

_She must look so adorable and sexy._

And then he gives himself a mental slap.

"Dinner will be ready in a while, Fullmetal," he says absently. "Patience pays off."

Now she must be scowling at him again.

"I need to make a phone call."

"The phone's in the living room. Go right ahead."

She leaves and some time later, he hears her voice outside; she is talking to her brother in a low voice and then he clearly makes out the words "bastard Mustang." He rolls his eyes. _What a brat._ And then she returns to the kitchen.

After a moment she says, "I didn't know you could cook."

He smirks. "Living alone and unmarried, you need to learn how to take care of yourself."

It is her turn to smirk. "So the great Roy Mustang can't convince a poor, helpless woman to cook and clean for him in return for dates, huh?"

Roy's jaw tightens at the comment but he says nothing. He isn't in the mood for a fight, not when it's raining outside (he loves the rain) and they're in his apartment – something he never thought would happen, and he decides to ignore her smart-ass remarks, just for tonight.

He'll find a way to get back at her later when she goes back to work.

She taps her automail fingers impatiently on the wooden surface of the table, a surprisingly pleasant rhythm like the beat of cymbals in an exotic ceremony. Pretty.

"Fullmetal, since you aren't doing anything, could you perhaps set the table?" he says. "There are bowls and chopsticks in the cupboard over there."

Ed scowls but she does as she is told, perhaps because she, too, doesn't want to start a fight. He watches from the corner of his eye how she brings out the glass bowls from the cabinet, as if they were something precious (they _are_ precious; one of his ex-girlfriends gave them to him), and listens to the pit-pat of her little feet, clumsy and graceful. Edward Elric is full of contradictions.

She puts the bowls and chopsticks on the table after rinsing them with an impatient little clank and then she fixes that fiery gaze on him. "Done," she announces. And then her stomach rumbles.

Roy blinks at her for an instant. And then he bursts into laughter.

Her cheeks color and she glares at him, eyes narrowed. "That. Is. Not. Funny."

If looks could kill, then Roy would be toast by now.

He stirred the spaghetti in the fry pan, grinning, shoulders shaking in laughter. "No...I'm sure it isn't."

"I'm really hungry!" she insists.

He nods and sprinkles some spices on the tender spaghetti and meat, and a mouth-watering aroma spreads in the kitchen.

"Hey, what're you cooking?" she comes up and leans against the counter, arm lightly brushing against his. His breath hitches in his throat at the sensation, the proximity but he quickly recovers, hoping that she hasn't noticed anything.

"It's spaghetti with meat sauce," he informs her. "I just put in the meat with the spaghetti."

"It smells really good," she says appreciatively.

"Thank you. I think dinner's ready now."

Almost instantly, Ed runs back to the table, their earlier scuffle forgotten.

Roy, amused, takes the fry pan to the table and scoops up a big spoon of meat and spaghetti and puts it on her bowl. "Eat. Tell me what you think."

Curiously, she pokes around the red and white in her spaghetti and then, she scoops some of it up with her chopsticks and puts in her mouth. She chews it carefully and then she smiles at him. "It's yummy!" And she digs in.

Roy smiles and takes a seat opposite to her, taking some spaghetti himself. They eat in comfortable silence, the small kitchen table making the distance smaller between them so that their legs sometimes brush up together.

"Sorry," she mumbles with a mouth full of spaghetti and he nods absently, trying not to show that he can feel the cold steel of her automail through the thick material of his uniform trousers. He hasn't changed yet. He plans to do so after dinner.

"So," he starts.

She glances up him. "So."

"You at the fair." The corner of his mouth quirks and she makes a face.

"Yeah, what about it?" she says challengingly.

"What was with the miniskirt? Was that for attention?"

"No, you pervert. Winry was just...she wanted me to show off my automail." She slid lower in her chair, her feet almost touching the ground. He bits back a jab on her height.

"Ah...so it was for attention." He prepares to duck just in case she decides to stab him with the chopsticks.

She glowers at him and she stops chewing her food. There's some tomato sauce stuck on the corner of her lips and he resists the urge to swipe it off with his index finger and lick it.

"Well," she says, "not for me. I mean, Winry wanted it. She thought it might her help win the competition."

A moment of silence passes. Then he nods. "Ah, I see. It was for Miss Rockbell then. Are you good friends?"

She glances up at him sharply. "Yeah, I grew up with her...mostly. I thought you knew that."

"Do you see her often?" he probably shouldn't be asking all these questions since Ed seems more interested in her dinner than in him – which is perfectly understandable – but a part of him wants to know if Winry Rockbell is all right because otherwise he won't be able to live with himself; he needs to know that she's moving on with her life, not letting scum like him ruin her chances of getting anywhere.

"Not really, I haven't seen her after she fixed up my arm." Ed says curtly. Then she shoots him a suspicious look. "Why are you so interested in her all of a sudden?"

Roy tries to keep a straight face. Which isn't hard, judging from the sensitive issues he deals with on an everyday basis. "No special reason."

Ed doesn't look convinced. She reaches over to take some more spaghetti. "She's too young for you."

He starts. "Who?" he asks, deadpan.

"Winry," she rolls her eyes. "Who else? And don't you dare think of touching her. Because then, you'll have to go through me." She puts up a stance, making him think of her like some sort of protective barrier. It would be funny...if he weren't so shocked.

"You think I'd make a pass at an underage girl?" he exclaims.

"How should I know?" she retorts, wolfing down her food. "You seem to want anything that walks on legs. You do have a reputation."

The rest of the meal is spent in silence.

As Roy puts away the dishes, still miffed about the remark on his womanizing, she asks him, "When do I come back to work?"

"I believe it's at the end of the week. I haven't exactly kept a track record of you. I do have better things to do."

"Yeah, making sure that Hawkeye doesn't shoot you and your dates don't catch you two-timing is really tough, I'm sure," she sneers, drinking water.

He grits his teeth and takes a deep breath to control his temper. They're always like this – well, not exactly like this – at the office but he doesn't appreciate being insulted in his own home. He is beginning to wish that he'd left her in the rain (he doesn't mean it, though. Ed may not be a damsel, but she certainly was in distress and it was the honorable thing to do).

"You were supposed to spend the night at Gracia's, from what I understand," he says as he washes the dishes.

"Yeah," Ed gets up and comes to stand beside him. "Need any help with that?"

He glances at her. "I'm surprised you offered, Fullmetal."

"Yeah, well," she shrugs dourly. "Equivalent Exchange."

"That's just a principle of alchemy, Ed."

She looks scandalized. "It's not just that!" she protests. "It's the truth of the whole universe – you can't get something without giving up something. So what should I do, Colonel Shit?"

"Well," he gestures towards a towel. "You could just dry the bowls and the chopsticks. That'll be enough, I suppose."

She smiles lopsidedly, pleased that she doesn't have to do much and then she gets the towel. He glances at her again, eyeing the little skin that she is exposing in those clothes. He is sorry to see the miniskirt go but a greater part of him is relieved and glad that she is no longer wet and shivering. His heartbeat quickens as their fingers brush together when he hands her the wet bowls.

If she feels something, she does a good job of not showing it.

The dishes are done and they are both tired after a long day and she is grumbling about how much more fun (and food) she could have had at Gracia's place but instead she is stuck here with the likes of him. He simpers in dark amusement.

"Take the bed," he suggests to her.

Her mouth drops open. "What the fuck?" she gasps.

"I'm sorry, Fullmetal, I was just trying to be polite."

Then she understands. "Oh." She looks thoughtful.

"Take the bed," he says again. "I'll sleep on the couch."

She narrows her eyes suspiciously. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He looks surprised. "I'm always nice to you."

"Suspending me and calling me short all the time does not count as 'nice.' And there's no way I'm sleeping on the same bed as you do, so I'll take the couch, thank you very much."

He exhales softly. "Suit yourself."

Later at night, Roy is roused from his sleep because nature's calling. He groans and gets up. He's too tired to go to the bathroom but it's not like he has a choice.

He feels a bit more awake after he comes out of the bathroom and he sees Ed sleeping on the sofa, on her side, tucked under the blanket, golden hair dry and loose, flowing over her shoulders. Most of the room is immersed in darkness; the only light is coming from the moon though the window and it falls almost directly on her. It's like a scene in a theatre. She is Sleeping Beauty in the spotlight.

He notices her chest heaving slowly with each breath that she takes and her right shoulder is a little exposed because the neckline of the T-shirt has shifted. He looks at the juncture where flesh meets metal and he is tempted to take a closer look at it and touch it but he's afraid of waking her. He'd rather go back to sleep in his bed than on the street outside with a few broken bones.

Her face looks so relaxed and peaceful, making him assume that she is not prone to nightmares the way he is. No, that can't be right. Roy is sure that Ed has enough nightmares and maybe tonight is just an exception.

_What does she dream about?_ he wonders as he watches her sleep. Does she have nightmares about Drachma the way he has nightmares about Ishbal? Does Drachma haunt her, make her feel that she will lose her mind? He did see the haunted look in her eyes when she came back but it seemed to be almost gone when he looked at her today.

Maybe she's just good at hiding things.

She hides enough things on an everyday basis, he realizes. Like her automail, her doubt, her insecurity because she has to put up a front for the world and she can't afford to look weak.

Perhaps they are not so different after all.

The cold wind starts blowing a little violently and Ed stirs in her sleep, frowning, trying to huddle for warmth against the cushions. In concern, Roy quietly tiptoes to the window and shuts it. The room feels a little warmer and the girl sighs in her slumber, making him smile.

_What are you dreaming about? Or are you dreaming at all?_

He goes to the kitchen for a drink of water and when he comes back, Ed is still fast asleep, this time on her back and he can make out the curve of her breast through the cotton in the darkness.

He swallows.

_Fullmetal is your subordinate. She is also underaged. She is not one of your conquests. Do not view her as such._

With a sigh, he tiptoes back to his bedroom, casts one last look in her direction and shuts the door behind him.


	7. The Morning After

I wanna swim away but don't know how

sometimes it feels just like I'm falling in the ocean

let the waves up... take me down

let the hurricane set in motion

let the rain of what I feel right now come down

let the rain come down

Blue October, "Into the Ocean"

Ed is awoken by the sunlight pouring into the room like sand in an hourglass. She is still tired and her head is aching but her eyes slam open when she sees Mustang in the kitchen, whipping up breakfast, looking like a bastard.

"Morning," he glances at her. "I see you're awake."

Ed tries to stretch inconspicuously and she covers a yawn with her automail hand. "Yeah, I guess that means you have good eyesight."

"So I'm not as old as you think I am," Mustang shoots back with wry amusement.

She sneers and goes to the washroom. Her clothes are dry and they are hanging off the back. She stops dead in her tracks as soon as she realizes that her bra is lying on top of everything else.

She flushes. Mustang has seen this! Oh, fuck, what did he think? Did he touch the bra? She doesn't recall doing something so stupid and irresponsible but she was pretty pissed last night so she may not have been in her right mind.

Is Mustang the one who put the bra on top of the other clothes for his own perverted viewing pleasure? Motherfucking son of a bitch!

She quickly changes her clothes. She never thought she'd say this but she's sorry to see the sweatpants go because now she has to put the miniskirt back on. She considers confronting the Colonel about this but she knows how bizarre that would sound. And he would just get a kick out it of it because he's always enjoyed putting her in awkward situations.

She comes out in the blank tank top and miniskirt, barefoot just like last night. She feels more conspicuous now in front of Mustang than she did yesterday in front of hundreds of people. It's because this is Roy Mustang, womanizing bastard whose dream it is to make all the female soldiers wear "tiny miniskirts" when he becomes Fuhrer. It's even weirder showing her automail limbs open in his presence because...it creeps her out.

She finds that her boots are dry, too and she sits on the couch to put them back on. Her miniskirt rides up a little and she quickly tugs it back down, glancing at him to see if he has seen anything.

Thankfully he is too busy setting the table to look in her direction and she breathes a sigh of relief. When she's done tying her boots, she gets to her feet and goes to the kitchen to see what's up, as her stomach is rumbling again (though thankfully, it is not as loud as it was last night).

Or maybe it is because he stops putting the glasses on the table and looks at her, eyebrow raised. She grimaces.

"Are you always hungry, Fullmetal?" he inquires offhandedly, going back to his work.

She flushes. "That's not your business," she rejoins defensively, shoulders tensing.

"Hmm," he concedes without looking at her. "So it isn't."

Ed can't help feeling discomfited insulting a man who gave her shelter from the rain for the night (why does that sound so cheesy?) but she doesn't know else to interact with him. She's too used to dealing with him in the office that being in his apartment makes her feel as though she's been dropped in the ocean without a life vest and there are sharks circling her, getting ready to attack any minute.

Mustang's hair is damp, she notices. He must have taken a shower in the morning. His hair is so black, making a contrast against the pallor of his complexion and there's this way his black, arched eyebrows furrow like he's concentrating on something (setting the table is such an odd task to concentrate on) that makes her heart skip a beat. Fuck, he almost looks gorgeous...

Ed blinks, feeling the heat rise in her face. Did she just think that Mustang looks _gorgeous_? Well, sure, the guy is _handsome_ (and even Russell looks handsome sometimes, which she can't say she cares about) but thinking that he's gorgeous is something else because gorgeous is a really strong adjective and she doesn't think it's appropriate for a lower-ranking officer to think that his or her superior officer is _gorgeous._

Crap, her throat feels dry. And it isn't even hot enough to cause dehydration.

"You know," she starts nervously, "I think I should just go..."

He looks at her, black eyes boring into golden ones. "Without breakfast? I'm sure my ears didn't deceive me when I heard your stomach rumble."

She twitches but bites back a retort. She takes a deep breath, struggling to keep her calm. Why does he have to make her feel as though everything is a scuffle with him? "Fine," she bites out. "I will stay for breakfast." And as an afterthought, she awkwardly adds, "Thank you."

He bestows upon her a small, enigmatic smile. "You're welcome."

Al calls right then. He says he'll meet her back at the dorms. Because Winry has the keys. Ed feels relieved.

There's bacon and toast for breakfast. It tastes delicious. They don't talk as much as they did last night. It's because Ed isn't much of a morning person. She tends to be grumpy and cranky and seeing Mustang first in the morning doesn't make her any more agreeable. They glance at each other at intervals and it just feels so weird because on the outside, she supposes that they look like a...couple.

She nearly chokes as the thought hits her and he looks at her in concern and pushes a glass of water towards her. "Here," he says quietly.

"Thanks," she mumbles, hoping that the glass hides her blush.

If Mustang has noticed something, he doesn't show it. She looks down at her plate but she watches the way his jaw moves as he chews his food and the brief movement of his windpipe as he swallows. Until this moment, she has never thought that eating could be remotely sexual.

Her forehead creases. Of course. Only Mustang could make something totally ordinary this sexy. Only Mustang could make her want to lean over and run her tongue down his –

_No, no,_ she thinks to herself fiercely. _Just concentrate on Russell. Think of his neck, his lips, his hands, his caresses, his kisses. _She forces herself to remember all the time when they would make out in her dorm room; she envisions him leaning over her (fuck, if only she wasn't so...not tall), his golden stands falling over his eyes, and she begins to relax a little.

But then, in her imagination, Russell's face turns into Mustang's, and the older man is looking down at her with the same look he had in her dream, and his kisses are much more ardent and –

She whimpers.

Mustang pauses and looks at her again. He frowns, confused. "Is something wrong, Fullmetal?"

"No, no!" she squeals, surprising them both. He flinches and stares at her for a long moment. She tries not to cringe under that penetrating, dark gaze and her cheeks turn bright red. She feels like an idiot. She knows that she makes a fool of herself in front of him enough at the office; she doesn't need to do this at his home now. She prays to whatever Powers That Be that she does not have to come here again.

Breakfast is over soon and this time, she rushes out of the kitchen. She doesn't have to look back to find that he is confused again. He comes out a moment later.

"Not helping me do the dishes?" he says.

"I have to go," she blurts out, hoping that her discomfort doesn't show.

He regards her carefully. "Of course," he nods. "Just let me get dressed."

She turns white. "What?" she demands breathlessly.

"You don't expect me to go to work like this, do you?" he explains, gesturing towards himself with a small smile.

"Yeah, but what does it have to do with me leaving?" Ed cries. She helplessly watches his retreating back.

"I'll drop you off at the dorms," he calls from inside the bedroom.

"You don't need to do that!" she says, raising her voice, glowering. "I can get there myself."

"I have to go to HQ anyway, Ed," he replies. "Your dorms are on the way."

He emerges in his uniform about fifteen minutes later (bastard must've been admiring himself in the mirror all this time because she's never met a guy who takes fifteen minutes to get dressed), looking spiffy as usual (why the hell is she admiring his looks all of a sudden?). Just as they are about to leave, he hands her his coat from last night.

"I think you should take this with you," he explains. It's just a simple statement but Ed is grateful because she comprehends the understanding in his voice.

"Thanks," she mumbles awkwardly, accepting this offer of kindness and he nods again. She puts it on. It feels warm and more comfortable, now that it's completely dry. She carefully draws it around herself to cover her legs. She is pleased when she notices that it covers her automail leg. It's something she didn't notice last night since they were both busy trying to get out of the rain.

"You can return it when you come back to HQ," he says, earning her displeasure again. Why does he have to make her so mad?

Mustang is locking the door after they step out of the apartment when another door in the hallway opens and an elderly woman comes out, wearing a worn-out apron and smoking a cigarette. She reminds Ed of Aunt Pinako...except that Aunt Pinako has a kinder look.

"Ah, good morning, Colonel," the woman drawls, exhaling smoke. It's like she's trying to look sexy and twenty-five years younger but it really isn't working. She just manages to look comic. Ed hides a smile.

Mustang finishes locking the door and looks at the woman with a polite smile. "Ah, good morning, Mrs. Carpenter," he bows a little and Ed makes a face when she sees the woman color. The bastard sure has a way with the ladies. So far, Ed has only heard about this but today, she gets to see for herself.

"So you've had a woman here last night, I see," Mrs. Carpenter observes, lightly tapping on her cigarette and ashes fall on the floor.

It is Ed's turn to flush and she opens her mouth to explain that it isn't like that, that the only reason he brought her back to his place is that it was raining hard and not because he wanted to seduce her.

But Mustang smiles again and he smoothly explains, "Well, a healthy, young man does have needs."

Mrs. Carpenter chuckles. "Yes, I suppose he does. I _was_ wondering last night where those sounds were coming from." She winks.

_Sounds? Last night?_ Absolutely horrified, Ed opens her mouth again to ask the woman what the fuck she's talking about, and that she shouldn't talk like Ed isn't here but Mustang raises a hand to stop her.

He nods politely at the woman. "I'll have to get going now, ma'am. I'm due at work in twenty minutes."

"Of course, of course," she says.

He takes his leave and they go down the stairs. It isn't until they are out of the apartment building that Ed roughly stops him and demands furiously, "What the hell was that about? How dare you? How fucking dare you...why didn't you just tell her that I was your subordinate?"

"Relax, Fullmetal," he shrugs her off, making her angrier. "My landlady wouldn't believe me if I told her the truth. It's much easier to pass you off as a date."

"What the – " Now she is speechless with shock and anger, her amber eyes elliptical.

"What do you think she would have thought if I told her you were my subordinate?" he challenges. "Word travels fast at times, Fullmetal. Taking a subordinate home for the night doesn't look good, no matter how you explain it. We'd still be accused of fraternization. You could lose your title, Edward."

An unspoken statement hangs in the air and he stares down at her, as self-protective as she is. _And then how will you get back your brother's body?_

She glares at him, anger flaring in her eyes, fists tightened. "Fine," she shoots back with clenched teeth. "Then you should've left me alone last night!"

"As tempting as that was, Fullmetal," Mustang retorts frostily, "I don't think your death would've looked good on my record."

"Oh, so this is what it's about?" she cries, stunned by his declaration. "Is that all you ever care about, Mustang? Yourself?"

He eyes her and she feels a chill down her spine. He turns away without saying anything. He looks at the streets as though he is expecting someone. It has to be Havoc; she knows that the Second Lieutenant usually drives Mustang to and from work. She is filled with rage at the way he treated her all along and before she can stop herself, the words discharge from her mouth in an incensed hiss:

"_You sick bastard."_

He looks at her sharply, his expression changing for a split second. He seems offended and then, he just ignores her as Havoc arrives with the official car.

The ride to Central is spent in heavy silence, occasionally broken by Havoc, who makes pathetic attempts at conversation – referring particularly to her miniskirt – to lighten the situation. It doesn't work and that is fine with Ed because she prefers to sulk rather than being merry in front of the bastard Colonel. _How do women stand him?_ she wonders angrily. How do women stand this insufferable, arrogant, smirking, ethically insolvent megalomaniac? What did he ever do to make his staff loyal to him? Havoc did say to her when she was a new State Alchemist that there was more about Colonel Mustang, but after four years of working under him (no pun intended), she still doesn't really get it.

Okay, okay, maybe she's being really ungrateful. She knows that he puts his butt on the line for her. He's the one who indirectly arranged for her and Al to sit for the State Alchemy exam. He does try to protect her. But fuck, he makes her so..._angry_ sometimes, (no, most of the times) that she finds him difficult to get along with. So she contends herself with not caring what he thinks or says about her.

Usually, that is the case but being treated like one of his "girls" has offended her deeply, even more so that he just stepped forward and spoke for her in front of the old woman as though her side of the story didn't matter.

She can't wait for the day she and Al restore their bodies. She's going to march right up to that jerk Mustang in his office and kick him in the groin, and then never see him again for as long as she lives. The only reason she's still in the military is Al and Al alone. Otherwise, under different circumstances, she'd kick her owner's ass a long time ago because Edward Elric most certainly does not like to be treated like anyone's dog.

Because she belongs to no one.

They arrive at the dorms fifteen minutes later. The weather is cool and pleasant after the rain and she feels glad – she's never been too fond of humid weather. She rushes to step out of the car and she turns back to face Havoc.

She smiles. "Thank you for the ride, Second Lieutenant," she says.

Havoc gawks at her. Mustang looks outraged. With a lopsided, impish little smile, Ed turns around and walks to the dormitory building, shaking her head with a sneer as she hears the car drive away.

Winry and Al are waiting right outside their room, deep in conversation about something. As Ed approaches them, she can make out words like "automail," "books" and "apple pie." They must have had apple pie at Mrs. Hughes' last night. It makes her want to tear her hair off.

They stop when they see her coming. Al seems to cringe as though he's been caught red-handed. Maybe she'll have a talk about that with him later.

"Oh, hey, Ed," Winry smiles. "Listen, we're really sorry about that last night."

"We tried looking for you," Al explains, looking a little scared as if he's waiting for her to start screaming at them any moment now. "But we couldn't find you anywhere."

"I was at in the washroom," Ed reprimands them coldly.

Winry looks embarrassed. "Well, then, you should've told us," she declares.

Ed rolls her eyes. They go inside. She goes to the bathroom to change the miniskirt, which she returns to Winry. "My bag was stolen at the fair yesterday," she complains.

"Oh, dear," Winry looks at her, expressionless. "Um...actually..." she looks sheepish as she produces a familiar, worn-out duffle bag.

Ed stares at it open-mouthed for a long time. And then she glares lividly at her friend.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me that you'd taken my bag?" she explodes, steam coming out from her ears.

Winry, as expected, loses her temper, too. "Well, I would have told if you told me that you were going to the stupid bathroom!" she cries.

"Do I have to tell you every time I want to go to the bathroom? No, I don't think so!" Ed huffs and points at her legs, which are now clad in soft blue. "And to think that all that time I was wearing your stupid skirt while you had my clothes – "

"This is not a stupid skirt!" Winry cries furiously, shoving said skirt in Ed's face. Ed recoils. "It was given to me by Tony!"

Al, who has been 'hiding' in the corner to avoid any misdirected alchemic reactions or thrown wrenches, starts at this new name. "Who's Tony?" he asks quietly.

Ed quiets down as she realizes what has just happened. She winces. She was hoping that Al wouldn't have to know about some guy Winry dated in Rush Valley, and she feels even worse that she wore something given to Winry by an old beau. Is that why that guy kept looking at them at the automail fair yesterday? _Why are men such perverts?_

"Nobody," she says quickly. She knows that Winry isn't yet aware of Al having a crush on her, and she wants to protect him, even though Winry isn't involved with anyone right now, Ed still wants to protect her little brother from thinking of Winry with another guy.

Winry scowls. "What do you mean, 'nobody'?" she demands. "I went out with him a couple of times back at Rush Valley," she says to Al, who looks more upset than ever.

She feels as though someone's stabbed her in the heart because she can stand to take Winry's wrenches and Mustang's snide remarks. But she can't stand to see her baby brother hurt.

"Oh," Al says in quiet surprise. And then he is silent again.

They look at one another uncomfortably and then Ed tries to change the subject. "Forget it about it," she mutters, hanging her – _Mustang's_ – coat behind the door and then sitting on her bed near Al. She pats him on the shoulder, flesh hand making a thump against the steel.

Winry looks genuinely confounded at this exchange.

"So what did you guys do at Mrs. Hughes' last night?" Ed starts tautly.

"Oh, you know," Winry seems to have forgotten her anger and she is putting away the infernal skirt. "We ate a lot!"

"Yeah?" Ed prompts with a little smile, hand still patting Al's shoulder.

"Uh-huh," Winry says. "We missed you though. Al and I talked all night. It was fun." She smiles and excuses herself to go and freshen up.

As the bathroom door closes, Ed quickly turns to Al. "I'm sorry about that whole Tony thing," she says. "But...you can't blame her, Al. I mean...the way she talked about it yesterday, it didn't sound like she was too crazy about him. And she doesn't know that you like her!"

Al sighs sadly. "What's the point?" he mopes. "I'm just a hunk of metal. All she'll ever see is this." He taps lightly on his arm.

Ed is drowning in an ocean of guilt again. _This is all my fault._ "Well," she says with a weak smile. "At least she thinks you guys had fun last night."

Al shrugs. "I guess things could've been worse," he agrees slowly. And then he fixes those glowing eyes on her. "So you spent the night at the Colonel's place."

"Yeah," she says, lowering her gaze, hoping that she isn't blushing. Hell, she has no reason to blush! So why is she blushing?

"So how was it?" he asks. "I saw him and Second Lieutenant Havoc drop you off this morning. I was really glad that you two hadn't ended up killing each other."

"Oh, believe me, Al," Ed raises her eyebrows. "I was tempted to."

"So what did you eat there?"

"Uh...he cooked spaghetti and meat."

"The Colonel cooks?" Both Al and Ed secretly thought that Mustang has take-out food all the time.

"Seems so," she shrugs.

"Then what did you do?" he wants to know.

"We went to sleep," she answers. "Well, _I_ went to sleep. I don't know what he did."

"Uh-huh," he nods understandingly. "So you're going back to HQ next week, right?"

"Yeah."

Winry comes out at that moment, all freshened up, brushing her hair. Al looks at her, making Ed feel glad that he doesn't seem upset anymore. One of these days, she has to persuade her brother to tell Winry how he feels.

"Ed?" Winry says suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"Whose coat is that?" Winry points at the door, brush stilled in one hand.

"Oh," Ed pales a bit. "It's Mustang's. He gave it to me to wear. Because of the rain last night. And this morning so that I didn't have to go out in a miniskirt."

"That's very nice of the Colonel," Al says and Winry agrees.

Ed makes a face. Yes, it is very nice of the Colonel but they don't know how much of an intolerable bastard he is.

"How long will you be staying, Winry?" she asks because she doesn't want to talk about Mustang.

"A while, I guess," Winry puts away the hairbrush and sits on the other bed. "I have to call Grandma and tell her the news! I'm so excited! And she'll be so happy!"

"I bet she will," Ed smiles. "I'll help you find a place before I have to go back to HQ."

"Sure," Winry says sunnily. "Thanks."

It's nice that Winry will be staying here for a long time, Ed realizes. It'll be lively to have her visit them more often and then, maybe Al might come out of his shell and tell her the truth.

They will get back their bodies, she vows. They will recover everything they've lost...and so much more.

There's a knock on the door. It's a telegram from Russell, saying that he'll come to visit her again in two days. It annoys her. It also baffles her why he cares for her so much when she can't really stand him (which brings one to the question of why she agreed to be his girlfriend in the first place).

As Al and Winry's voices fill the room, Ed's thought drift back to a raven-haired onyx-eyed man who is not very far away from her at the moment.


	8. Hookups, breakups and temper tantrums

Beta: Claire D'Aubigne

Superman on an aeroplane  
Sitting next to Lois Lane  
You gotta that woman but you want her gone  
So you can sleep with a teenage blonde

Stereophonics, "Superman"

Mustang is pissed. Very pissed.

Because Fuery makes the worst coffee ever.

"What the hell is this crap?" he says angrily after taking a sip, making a face and then glaring at the smaller man, who cringes.

"Er...coffee, sir," Fuery replies in a trembling voice, cowering like a...cowering person.

"Have you never learned how to make coffee?" Roy bellows, slamming the mug down on his desk and spilling some in the process. "You're a highly trained officer and you don't know how to make a decent cup of coffee?"

Fuery turns white, looking shocked because the Colonel rarely loses his temper like this. Roy is not given to fits of rage, and most certainly not over such trivial things as a badly prepared mug of coffee. "S-sorry, sir," he sputters.

"And that blasted dog!" Roy seethes. "Pissing all over the paperwork! What's going to happen now?"

Fuery gives him a look that says, _I thought you hated paperwork._

Hawkeye has the decency to look a little ashamed because it is her dog, after all. Said dog is standing at her feet and looking up at Roy with a sheepish, but innocent little smile and starts wagging its tail as though this small, otherwise cute gesture would make Roy feel better.

It actually makes him feel worse.

"Out!" he screams. "Everybody out!"

They run. Black Hayate included.

Roy slams the door closed and goes back to his desk where he now finds that the coffee has spilled on some application forms. He glares at them and then shrugs. No one gets these forms back anyway.

And of course, there is still the question of getting rid of the horrible coffee.

He hasn't been able to have any coffee when he got up this morning and before that, when he'd gone to take a shower and seen Ed's bra dangling from the little rack in the bathroom, he'd flushed like a teenage boy seeing a woman nude for the first time. Of course, he hasn't seen Ed nude (and he never wants to) but looking at her bra like that, so open for him to find, made him feel very...uncomfortable, to say the very least. Fortunately some time alone with himself in the shower made him feel a little better and when he got out, she was still stretched out on the sofa, fast asleep, like a cherub.

Yes, a cherub, a beautiful angelic child. _Child_, he repeated to himself several times before he went to make breakfast.

_You're a pervert to lust after a child like that, you know that?_

Yes, he is such a dirty old man to want to touch Ed Elric, a sixteen-year-old _girl_ (not woman, girl) in a way that is not appropriate at all. He is still pissed at what happened this morning. It is eating up at him, worse that Black Hayate chewing at the end of his trousers – which the dog likes to do at times. He finds it absolutely irritating.

Perhaps he is at fault here. He shouldn't have told Mrs. Carpenter that he spent the night with Ed but what else could he do? He knows how the military frowns upon fraternization and though he took Ed home last night with only the best intentions, he is fully aware of the consequences of anyone finding out that he let her spend the night at his apartment. No amount explaining would make people believe that he took her only so that she wouldn't be left shivering in the rain like a kitten (what a poor comparison, Ed and a kitten). People are always inclined to believe the worst about others and if anyone found out what happened, he would just be accused of taking advantage of an underage subordinate for his own devious purposes. The smart thing to do would have been to take her to Gracia's home and then, he would not have been so tormented by the memories of the brief amount of time he spent alone in her company. He would not have had to face a moral dilemma and Ed would not have had the chance to be pissed off at him.

_You sick bastard._

The words have definitely hurt him, even more than he thought they would. Sure, Ed is always insulting him and cursing him but when she called him a sick bastard this morning, he had been shocked because he knows it is true. Only a sick bastard would let himself imagine having a teenage girl in his bed. Only a sick bastard would make the stupid decision of bringing a young girl home with him (it was raining, but no one else would look at that as an excuse).

Well, how did he expect her to react? Sure she would think that he's a bastard because of what he said. After all, surely, she cannot find the idea of being involved with him appealing in any way!

_Dirty old man for lusting after a child._

He wants to tear out his hair and forget this ever happened. Yes, he took Fullmetal home last night just for her well-being – he had totally honorable intentions – and while he did enjoy her company...he couldn't...can't possibly look at her in any way other than professional.

And when she thanked Havoc for the ride...

Roy clenches his fists.

There's a knock on the door later, when he's already poured the foul coffee into a flower pot (is it him or does the plant look really sick all of a sudden?).

"Come in," he says, having calmed down a bit, though he's still surprised that someone has dared to knock on his door after the temper tantrum he threw.

The door opens and Hawkeye enters the office gingerly. He hasn't seen much of her lately, being busy with his own work, and he notices now that she looks a little...miffed. She's got a couple of papers in one hand and a mug of coffee in another. She sets them down on his table and meets his eyes.

"You didn't have to blow a fuse like that, Sir," she admonishes him politely.

He looks at her as she continues, "I understand that Fuery isn't good at making coffee, and it's my responsibility about the destroyed paperwork because Black Hayate _is_ my dog..." She pauses. "What I'm trying to say is, Colonel, is something wrong?"

Roy regards her for a long moment. It isn't like Hawkeye to come and ask him about his personal problems – though she did tell him at Hughes' funeral that when it comes to the Elric siblings, his decisions weren't always wise.

She has no idea.

"No," he replies with a straight face. "Everything's fine, First Lieutenant. Thank you for asking."

Hawkeye nods slowly, taking the hint. "All right," she lingers there for a moment and he is about to ask her if she wants anything else when she asks him, "When is Edward coming back?"

He turns slightly pale at the mention of Ed's name but he quickly recovers. "She's supposed to be back at the end of the week."

She nods. "Ah, I see." And then, with a final look, she leaves the office.

Roy sighs and leans against the edge of his desk, looking at the new paperwork in dismay. Right now he has worse things to worry about than his attractive, troublesome subordinate.

Four days later, Ed is at sitting at a table in a local cafe, anxiously tapping her automail hand on the polished wood of the table. She went to meet Russell at the train station when he came to Central. It is bizarre how he is back here again when they met only a week ago and when she asked him about this, he told her that it was because he missed her.

Now, she is faced with conflicted feelings about how she's going to tell him that she no longer wants to be involved with him because she just doesn't feel that way about him...anymore?

Was there ever a time when she cared for him?

She doesn't know.

It's five in the afternoon. They were supposed to meet at this cafe about fifteen minutes ago but he's late and she hates it when people are late for appointments. Which is probably why Mustang annoys her so much.

She still hasn't forgotten about him telling his landlady that she was one of his...girls. She shudders because she would never want to be one of his girls. _Well, a healthy, young man does have needs._ Yes, he is truly morally bankrupt to have passed her like that.

Maybe what she finds more disturbing that being in Mustang's bed doesn't sound like such a bad idea, after all.

_Shit. Shit._ A hot blushes rises to her face and she turns away to look at the window even though no one is really paying attention to her in a place like this. _Don't you dare think of Mustang like that, he's old enough to be your father!_

Just as she thinks that, she imagines Mustang's voice retort with a smirk, _Come now, Fullmetal, I'm not _that _old._

Someone pats her on the shoulder and she turns around to see Russell smiling down at her with a smug expression that reminds her of the Colonel (why must she be attracted to bastards?).

"Oh...hi," she says nervously and his smile widens.

"Hey, Edward," he bends down and kisses her. She accepts the gesture but doesn't kiss back. He pulls away, surprised. "Is something wrong, Ed?"

She looks up at him, storm of emotions swirling in her mind and she thinks, _Yes, something's wrong...this whole thing – _us _– feels wrong._ She forces out a smile and shakes her head. "No."

He takes a seat opposite to her and they look at each other awkwardly. Well, _she_ is the one who feels awkward. He, on the other hand, looks pleased, like most boys of his age would, that he has such an effect on her. She wonders what he must tell people back home at Youswell. _Hey, you know the Fullmetal Alchemist?_ _Well, she's my girlfriend. What do you mean, of course she's a girl!_

"How's Fletcher doing?" she asks with a weak smile. She feels lightheaded all of a sudden and she wants to throw up.

"He's fine," he nodded. "He's in the bookstore just beside this cafe."

"Really?" she tries to sound interested.

"He wants to get some new books on healing alchemy." When asked, he tells her, "The situation's much better at Youswell now. The red water's gone and we've been looking for a way to make the soil more fertile..."

She listens as he goes on about the families that have benefited from his alchemy and all the research notes that his father left on the red water. _He might be annoying but he's a good guy._

"Still no leads on the Philosopher's Stone?" Russell asks.

With a disappointed sigh, Ed shakes her head. "No...actually we haven't been looking lately. We've been busy with some other things."

"Yeah," he agrees, "life's pretty busy. It's why I come here to get away from all the things that come from being an alchemist, just to spend some time with you."

Ed stares at him for a moment, not sure what she should say to this show of affection. Of course, he's always been caring to her in his own self-satisfied way, but this is the first time he's actually said it aloud.

"Speaking of spending some time together," his voice drops suggestively and he flashes a seductive smile at her, a twinkle in his eyes. "How about you have dinner with me tonight? And then maybe we could go back to my hotel room...and fool around?"

For a moment, Ed doesn't think she heard that right and she stares at him, dumbfounded. She isn't offended by the blazon offer (she's read in books that boys have a stronger libido than girls – why else would Mustang be such a womanizer?), rather she wonders what she should say. She is about to break this boy's heart and she doubts that there's a nice way to do it.

"Actually, Russell," she starts slowly, "there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about."

He nods in interest. "Yeah, what is it?" he prompts.

Ed pauses, considering the many options in her head. _You're a really nice guy and I like you a lot but only as a friend._ Or _Sure we've had some good times together but I don't see us going anywhere, do you?_ Or _Get the hell out of my sight!_ She takes a deep breath and speaks:

"I don't think we should see each other anymore."

Russell's smile fades a bit and he looks like she's just kneed him in the groin. "What?" he says stupidly.

"I think we shouldn't go out anymore," she carefully reiterates, cringing inwardly. She was looking forward to this days before he returned to Central. She shouldn't feel so bad about it now because it would really be good riddance.

He stares at her blankly and then he forces out a laugh as though she's pulling a prank on him and she's going to tell him any minute now that she's just kidding, she's only mad that he hasn't made any contact with her since he left.

"You're joking, right?" he says, fake smile lingering on his face.

Heart sinking, she shakes her head.

He is silent as he looks away with a disbelieving expression on his face. She notices the blond bangs falling over his right eye. Once upon a time she might have found it alluring but now, she fears that his hair is hiding the tears in his eyes.

"When did you uh...decide this?" he asks, voice sounding small and it makes her feel like such a cruel bitch.

"I've felt this way for a while now," she tells him truthfully because it's time that she be honest with him. She has already told Winry and Al and it's time that she tell him. "I think we shouldn't see each other anymore because...I...I don't think this is going anywhere." Fuck, that sounded much better in her head...or when Winry said it.

Breaking up looks so easy on the pictures and in the romance novels that she once (or twice) caught Al reading. She never imagined that it would be this hard and that she would feel this bad, like someone punched her in the stomach or gave her a third automail limb.

"Well," he says a few minutes later. "I see..." He looks at her as if he's searching for an indication in her expression that she doesn't mean what she says.

There is none.

"I'm sorry, Russell," says Ed, hoping that she sounds comforting enough because she's never been to good with comforting other people.

"It's...it's all right." He shakes his head and gets to his feet. She follows him. "So I guess I'll see you around," he says softly.

She shrugs. The truth is, although she is upset, she finds that she doesn't really care if they ever meet again or not. "Yeah, maybe," she says simply. "You never know."

He gives a wan smile then. "Okay, Ed, take care." He walks out of the cafe. After a few moments, she sees him and Fletcher, who has a bundle of books in his hands, call a cab and get in. She sighs sadly.

She walks aimlessly through the streets, eager to find Winry and Al, who said they would be waiting somewhere. They know the reason she went to meet with Russell today. They've been spending a lot of time together lately, she's noticed. Sometimes they talk in private, like two kids sharing a secret, and when she comes into the room, they hush up as though she's their mother. Sometimes it annoys her and sometimes it amuses her. She's glad that finally, Al has the courage to make some sort of move on Winry and it's a positive sign that Winry seems to be really comfortable with Al. Of course, Winry's always been comfortable with Al; for fuck's sake, they all played together when they were little, it's just a different sort of comfort that Winry feels now and Ed is keeping her fingers crossed for the wedding day, as Hughes might have said.

Central doesn't have a coastline but there's a fountain nearby, just fifteen minutes away and Winry said they would wait for her there. Ed hurries because she'd really like to be with her brother and her best friend right now. This feeling in her heart is so new – she dumped Russell but it feels like she's the one who's been dumped. It's for the best, as they all say, and she's never been too fond of him to begin with, but she still feels as though someone's driven a knife through her heart.

She can see Al and Winry right now near the fountain. The waters springing out look blue, red and purple because of the sunset and she pauses because it seems like those two are having a private moment together. She stands and sighs...and waits.

Al is bending his head and it seems that he's saying something really important to Winry, who's listening intently. After an instant, when Al's stopped speaking, Winry looks surprised...and then she blushes.

Ed holds her breath, anxiously waiting to see what happens now. God, what's Winry going to do now that Al has probably told her how she feels and when he turns away, she's almost afraid that Winry's broken his heart.

And then, Winry slowly moves closer to Al and tentatively rests her hand on his arm, looking up at him with a shy little smile. Al turns to look down at her hand on his arm, and then her face, and he blushes, too. Encouraged, she takes another step closer and presses the side of her face against the cool metal and they both watch the sunset together.

Despite her own pain, Ed breaks into a happy little laugh and for the rest of the evening, she can't stop grinning. She stands in her place away from the two lovebirds, feeling a new, powerful surge of sisterly affection for Winry for caring for her brother

After all, it takes a special kind of girl to love a hollow suit of armor.

Please review!


	9. Nightmare in Central

Wake me up inside.   
Call my name and save me from the dark.  
Wake me up.  
Bid my blood to run.  
Before I come undone  
Save me from the nothing I've become

Evanescence, "Bring me to life"

_There were bodies sprinkled all over the field like sugar on a cake. Ed could make out that much as she squinted her eyes in the darkness. The only faint light was coming from the stars, giving the motionless figures on the ground an unearthly white sheen._

_The bodies were just faceless because she couldn't make them out in the darkness. But as soon as she raised her lantern over her head, harsh golden light flooded the field in an eerie yellow. All this time she had been trying to adjust her sight to the darkness, now it took her few moments to get used to the light._

_What she saw made her gasp in horror._

_The wounds looked almost fresh due to the cold and they were glistening in the light. Some had died with their eyes open. Some had died with their eyes closed. And all had died with the same look of frozen horror on their faces, the same expression she wore now._

"_I can't believe I did all this," she whispered to herself – and the ghosts of the fallen soldiers – in the semi-darkness, wanting to keel at the sight, the stench. These soldiers deserved a proper burial but why didn't their people come to take the bodies away?_

_The answer was simple – they were afraid. And could she blame them? Could she blame them when they'd witnessed the destruction that a single alchemist was capable of?_

"_Major Elric!" a voice barked behind her, making her flinch; she had been so immersed in her thoughts that she hadn't heard anyone approaching. This was a time of war, she reminded herself. She'd have to be more alert if she wanted to keep her head._

"_General Harrison," she exclaimed, breath coming out in smoke. She was surprised, embarrassed and irritated that her commanding officer in the war had found her in the place where she least wanted to be found._

"_I told you not to venture too far from the camps," he scolded her, frowning. _

"_I just wanted to get some fresh air, Sir," she answered through clenched teeth, ignoring the way that he stared at her, almost as though he suspected that she would desert the army, when all she wanted was to go back home and keep seeking the Philosopher's Stone._

_She tightened her coat around her, more to protect her privacy than to protect herself from the weather._

_Harrison kept his eyes fixed on her face, his expression cold and hard. "Come, Elric," he turned around and started walking, a signal that she should start walking._

_They walked back to their camp, listening to the drunken cheers of the other Amestrian soldiers who were happy that they'd won another battle, their shoes crunching the dry leaves on the ground._

"_You have to be prepared for these kinds of things, Major," the General called over his shoulder. "That's what a soldier does when he goes to war. He must be prepared to face the worst."_

_The words were meant to be paternal and comforting because he could tell how upset she was, and she nodded even though his back was turned to her._

_She knew that she might have to go to war when she joined the State Alchemists, but she had comforted herself that she had already lost two of her limbs, and Al's body, and therefore, the worst was over._

_But there was nothing on earth that could have prepared her for _this

Ed slowly opens her eyes at the sound of water dripping slowly from a tap at regular intervals, a strange but maddening rhythm.

And then there is Al's voice saying her name.

She blinks her eyes a few times, grimacing at the sunlight, and she looks around. It takes her a while to realize that she's in her dorm room, back at Central and the war with Drachma is over. The realization is a breath of fresh air after spending months in a garbage dump. But from time to time, she can still smell the foul odor, haunting her dreams

Ed yawns and stretches languidly, trying to brush off the chill in her bones, not really listening to what Al is telling her, when she suddenly sees the time on the clock.

It's a quarter past nine.

Her eyes slam open.

"Holy shit, Al!" she sits up in a bolt, swinging her legs over the side of her bed like a bulldozer, knocking off his helmet in the process.

"Hey!" he cries, reaching out to fish out said helmet, which has rolled under the bed.

"Eh, sorry, Al," the blonde girl rushes to the bathroom, hair flying behind her like a magic carpet. "I'm late for work!" She slams the door behind her.

Al has found his helmet by now and reattached it to his shoulders, looking around to the direction of the sound. "That's what I've been trying to tell you for half-an-hour!"

They run through the courtyard in a mad frenzy, Al lagging a bit because of his armor. People see them coming and jump out of the way, dogs barking, newspapers flying. He pauses very briefly to give them a proper apology while Ed yells a loud "Sorry!" and goes on her way.

"Hurry up, Al!" she calls behind her, silently cursing the situation. Of all days, how could she have overslept on the day of being reinstated a State Alchemist? She has woken up earlier than usual, say at seven or eight, during the past two weeks, and she even went to bed early last night, too tired to have dinner (which was weird), listening to Al talk to Winry in the hallway.

It irritates her sometimes to be around Al and Winry because she feels like the third wheel, as if she's butting into something private. She feels left out, but Al's happy and that makes her happy.

She's breathing hard like a woman in labor by the time she has reached the outside of Mustang's quarters, feeling weak and nauseous from the lack of breakfast and the memory of death. Al catches up a moment later, twin red glows softening in concern.

"You haven't had any breakfast, Sister," he says to her. "Do you want me to get you something from the cafeteria?"

Ed is moved, as always, by her brother's consideration and kind heart. Does he feel so resentment that because of her, he cannot touch or kiss his sweetheart?

_Why don't you blame me, Al? Or do you actually hate me, but just don't show it? Do you hate me, Al? You can tell me...I won't hold it against you...because I would hate me if I were you._

She gives him a slight smile and shakes her head, sleek ponytail swinging behind her like a pendulum. "There's no time for that, Al. I'm going in now. Wish me luck." She turns around to open theoor.

"Okay," he nods. "I'll be at the library then. I'll bring you something good to eat at lunchtime."

Ed stiffens before the door, face falling, eyes saddening. _Why do you have to be so goddamn nice to me? Don't you hate me...even just a bit?_ "Sure. See you later."

"See you, Sister, and good luck."

She smiles a little and shuts the door behind her. It's finally here. Return-to-work day. She is torn between feeling happy and sad that this day is finally here – happy that for two weeks, she could rest and relax and not have to put up with Mustang's infuriated smirks and sneers, and sad that this blessing in disguise is finally being taken away like food from an orphan. She would've liked Al to come in with her, but she would rather not have him there, come to think of it. No doubt Mustang would say something utterly humiliating (she would actually be upset if he didn't – _hey, Mustang, you okay? Say something! Something bad._) but Al's been in a really good mood lately. So she doesn't want him to get upset over something the bastard says to _her._

Everyone is at their desks, looking busier than usual, except for Hawkeye. She is at her desk, reading this leather-bound book like she usually does (what's in the book, anyway?) and at the sound of the door closing, she looks up. "Edward – " she starts.

"I know, I know," says the young girl. "I'm here to see the Colonel – is he in?"

"Now is not really a good time," the First Lieutenant begins weakly but she is cut off by a deep booming voice coming through the ajar door of the owner's office. "Is that Fullmetal?"

"Yes, Sir," Hawkeye answers.

A pause.

"Send her right in."

Ed takes a deep breath and then she goes in.

Mustang is behind his desk, scrutinizing official documents (or pretending to scrutinize, for all she knows, he could be trying to remember what his date from last night looked like). They haven't had any contact since the automail fair and she hasn't thought much of him since then, her thoughts skipping over him like stones in a pond. She didn't even miss Russell that much the next day, but somehow her subconscious prevented her from thinking of a certain Colonel.

He turns a page of the document, reminding her of a schoolteacher marking scripts. "You're late, Fullmetal," he says quietly.

She reddens even though she has seen this coming. "Yes, Colonel. I'm sorry about that."

"Hmm," he doesn't look up at her but she still has the feeling that he is watching her every move. "You are to be reinstated as a State Alchemist today, are you not?"

"Yes, Sir." Why does he have to rub in?

"All right then." Mustang finally puts the papers away and looks at Ed. "Take a seat, Fullmetal."

Hesitantly, she does so and he looks at her levelly. She prepares herself for a dressing down.

"As you are aware, the higher-ups have strongly disapproved of your disobedience in the war," he says, "but they agreed to give you a second chance."

She nods, waiting to hear what he has to say next.

"The military brass knows that you go out often on missions," he continues, "but for the time being, they have another assignment for you."

Golden brows furrow. "Which is?"

He drops a stack of papers before her. "These are the answer booklets of the State Alchemy exam that took place two days ago," he informs her, noticing her perplexed look as she gaped at them. "They'd like you to check these."

Ed stares at the booklets, shocked. It takes a while for the words to sink in before she looks up at Mustang. "What?" she says under her breath.

He leans back in his chair; it's almost as if he's enjoying her confusion. "You heard me. They want to you to check them."

She keeps staring at him. "But I don't know anything about marking exams!" she protests.

"It's not a big deal," he shrugs. "You've taken the exam. This should be a piece of cake for you." When she still looks reluctant, he reiterates coolly, "It's a 'request' from the higher-ups, Ed. Not an assignment from me."

"But the stone – " she sputters, trying her best to weasel away out of this. All she is interested in is information on the legendary artifact. Anything besides that holds no fascination for her.

"I have no leads for you at the moment," he explains. "But rest assured that when I do, I will let you know."

She remains seated, staring at the papers in horror. What is going on? "Is this for Drachma?" she blurts out before she can stop herself.

Onyx eyes narrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Drachma," she repeats, trying to hide her panic. "I know that I've been suspended for two weeks but this..."

"Edward," he interrupts her, voice firm. "I assure you this has nothing to do with Drachma. All State Alchemists are often asked to check the answer scripts of the entrance exams. I've done it before, when you applied. It's not a big deal."

She stares at him for a moment. And then she nods grudgingly.

"Now if you don't mind," he gestures towards a small desk in the corner.

Once again, she is horrified. "I have to do this right here?" she demands.

"The scripts cannot leave this office," he says, deadpan. "Now please, get to work."

She grimaces. "You're awfully cranky today," she comments. "What, you didn't get a date last night?"

She shoots her a look that immediately sets her to work because he is not a person to be messed with this morning.

The answers are long and boring, many of the applicants having gotten wrong the easiest questions. She rolls her eyes, scribbling comments in red ink, regretting that they would not be getting these back. She is tempted to smack the pathetic applications and tell them not to take the exam if they can't tell the difference between a transmutation array and the transmutation itself. Her stomach is rumbling softly but she wills herself to ignore it. She's gone so long without food; she can wait for another three hours.

"Hmm," she says to herself suddenly as she looks carefully at one of the answer booklets.

Mustang looks up at her with a frown. "What's that?"

She glances at him. "Um, nothing...I just noticed that there are no examinees from Risembool."

He stares at her for a moment. And then he smirks.

"Well," he says as he goes back to whatever he was writing (a recommendation? Love letter?). "There aren't too many people from your village who're interested in alchemy, let alone becoming a State Alchemist. As I recall, Mrs. Rockbell was strongly against you taking the exam when I suggested it."

Ed frowns. "She was against the idea because her son was killed by a State Alchemist," she pointed out, heated. "Not because she has something against alchemists." Just as soon as the words leave her mouth, it dawns upon her that maybe old lady Pinako does have a thing against alchemy because she looked extremely offended when Ed suggested human transmutation. No, she did have a point. Heh. Even Aunt Pinako knew that human transmutation is a forbidden science. And Ed still had to go do it.

_That's why we automail engineers exist,_ Ed recalls the elderly woman saying as she looks down at her metal prosthetics, and she smiles bitterly. _You have no idea._

"Perhaps so," Mustang says straight-faced. "But your people are more concerned with the harvest next season than the latest ground-breaking theory in biological transmutation, aren't they?" The corner of his mouth twitched in a small smile.

She narrows her eyes at the slight to her people. "We all have our priorities," she says slowly, brows knitted to show her displeasure. It is one thing for him to insult her, and another thing to extend the insult to the people of Risembool. "But we have the best automail engineers in Amestris!" she glows, a child able to defend herself in the least way possible.

To her surprise, he rolls his eyes, a way of dealing with her naiveté. "No offence, Fullmetal, but while they might be very good at what they do, they're certainly not the best."

She glowers at him, fists tightened in rage, offended by the very statement. "How can you say that?" she snarls. "You haven't seen the automail they gave me!"

"Calm down, Ed," he chides, making her wonder if he just likes pissing her off. "And I certainly have seen your automail – impressive craftsmanship," he smirks a bit when he sees how proud she looks, but her face falls when he concludes, "but it's not the best."

"But Winry won the automail competition!" she argues vehemently, refusing to give up and let him win this little "debate."

"Miss Rockbell's work was comparatively better than anyone else's," he replies calmly, writing away. "But she has a long way to go."

"Hmmph," she folds her arms across her best and turns away, sulking like a child who did not get a cookie. "So you think nothing of their work. And since when did you become an expert on automail, anyway?"

"I didn't say I was," he says. "There's no need to take everything so personally. It takes a lot of work – for anyone – to become the best in a certain field. Your friend may not be the best yet, but she's certainly determined to become so."

Ed is surprised to detect a hint of admiration and...relief in his tone. Relief? Why would he feel relief? He sounds awfully comprehensive in his assessment of Winry's talents, as if he'd put a lot of thought into it. "Well," she says thoughtfully, "all she really wants to do is to help people." And it is the truth, come to think of it. Winry is here to learn more about her craft so that she can help people, not because she is competitive or for personal gain. Funny how the Colonel should be the one to make her realize that.

He looks at her again, silent. "That's a very noble aspiration," he says quietly, eyes boring into hers, making her forget what she wants to say. Her mouth feels dry suddenly and her heart skips a beat when he keep holding her gaze like piercing vice, and she can't look away until he does first.

"Her parents were like that, too," she shrugs and takes up another booklet. "They were like that at the Ishbal rebellion. I heard – all they wanted to do was help people. They didn't care if the wounded were Amestrian or Ishabalan. They only wanted to do their job." When she hears Mustang say nothing, she turns her head to find him sitting stiffly, grip so tight on his pen that his knuckles have turned white. He looks like he's remembering something (from his experience at the war, perhaps?).

She wonders what she could have said wrong. "Colonel?" she ventures tentatively. "You all right?"

He snaps out of whatever it was and looks at her sharply. "Go back to work, Fullmetal. Chit chat on your own time."

She feels like she's been slapped in the face and for a moment, she's tempted to retort by pointing out how much worktime he wastes calling his girlfriends when Hawkeye is away, but she decides against it.

For the next two hours, the only sounds in the room are those of sealing envelops, the turning of pages and the scratching of pens. Ed immerses herself in a world of scribbled answers about the origins of transmutation circles and Diefenbaker's hypothesis on water alchemy.

She freezes.

Water alchemy.

There was this State Alchemist at Drachma, known as the Waterstring Alchemist, whose talent was to manipulate the properties of water and turn it into some kind of killing instrument that could slice a victim in half. Ed saw the woman at work. If her power wasn't so deadly, she would have thought her magnificent. It was the sight of the Waterstring Alchemist at work splitting live people in half that strengthened her resolve not hurt people with alchemy, even if it meant her being court-martialed, even if it meant never recovering Al's body.

Often, when she closes her eyes, the screams of the fallen Drachman soldiers ring fresh in her ears, and she can feel the warm splatter of blood on her skin.

The scraping of the Colonel's chair rouses her from her trance and she finds him standing. He looks too tall, and foreboding, for a moment, an angel of death come to punish her for what she's done and instinctively, she shrinks back in horror, watching carefully as he straightens his jacket. He looks pissed about something.

When he notices her staring at him, he says curtly, "It's lunchtime, Fullmetal. I'm surprised you haven't figured that out when your stomach has a tendency to growl every five minutes."

She flushes and gets to her feet slowly. "That was uncalled for, Colonel," she mutters, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden, the world spinning, the ground shaking.

_Bodies, bodies everywhere, not a single one living._

She can't breathe; all she sees is blood, all she smells is death as the carrion settle on the decaying, mangled corpses, and shortly after, wolves come to feel on the remains, making her want to hurl.

She moans; it is almost inaudible. She grips the edge of her desk to steady herself and still the world, taking deep breaths to calm down and stop her heart racing.

Mustang frowns at her. "Fullmetal?" he cocks his head to the side, eyeing her carefully. "You okay?"

_Flies buzzing around the bodies, wolves tearing at the rosy flesh, desecrating that which should have received a proper burial. Here is someone's father, someone's husband, someone's brother, someone's son. And they have been reduced to food for insects and wild animals._

The walls are closing in on her fast and she can't see anything anymore. The last thing she remembers before she slips into darkness is a pair or strong arms catching her.

_She's swimming in darkness. It feels cold and wet around her legs, like she is in a snake pit; it takes a while for her to realize that it's water._

_Or something else._

_Like blood._

_She walks forward, her hands stretched out to see what kind of place this is, but all she can feel is the cold slap of stone against her bare feet. (What happened to her shoes?)_

_She keeps going forward until she sees a dim light in the distance. She blinks to make sure that this isn't a mirage in a desert,_

_There's a single island in the middle of this sea of blood with a tall lamp post. And then there are bodies._

What is this place? _She wonders, wincing. As she goes further, she notices a young boy with frightened grey eyes, and long sandy blond hair. He is hugging his knees to his chest. His eyes come to rest on her and she gasps, fixed to the spot._

Al...

_The boy is relieved and he holds out his arms, a child beckoning to his mother to be picked up. "I'm scared, Sister," he whimpers, urging that she go to him at once. "Help me!"_

_She wants to. But her feet seem glued to the ground._

_Her eyes narrow upon seeing the mass of corpses stir behind Al. It is a sudden movement, lasting only for a few seconds. He seems to have felt it because he looks more afraid than before. She should get going. She should go to him and pick him up and then get out of this horrid place...wherever it is._

_But she still can't move._

_Then, as suddenly as it began, the corpses quickly merge together, rising up in the form of a giant snake, its mouth wide open, wearing the face of a thousand suffering humans, eye eyes glowing brightly in the darkness. It throws her a malicious look, and grins evilly as it looks down at Al, whose eyes are wide with fear and horror._

"_Sister..." he pleads, piercing into her heart._

_The snake opens its jaws and strikes down to engulf him whole._

_She screams._

Ed comes to and sits up with a bolt, pressed against a warm human chest. A _living_ human chest. She clutches desperately at the thick blue fabric, breath coming out in pants. Her heart is pounding loudly in her breast, forehead sheened with sweat as she tries to chase away the nightmarish images that still linger in her mind.

"Al," she whispers, tears coming to her eyes, grip tightening on the blue serge as she presses her cheek against it, listening to the regular beat of the hidden heart. She squeezes her eyes shut. "Al..."

"Bad dream?" a familiar voice asks gently.

Her eyes fly open and she freezes.

Mustang.

Damn.

She's about to pull away but then his hands come to rest on her back in an awkward attempt to comfort her.

She wants to die.

Instead, she takes a deep breath and rests her forehead on his shoulder, blinking back her tears. It waSs just a nightmare...in the middle of the day.

"Where's Al?" she croaks, her throat feeling as if she'd been thirsty for days.

"He's right outside – he's very worried about you," the Colonel assures her, patting her gently on the back. She closes her eyes involuntarily, pleased by the warmth of his hands, it's been so long since she's felt such human warmth – technically, Russell would always touch her whenever they were together, but this was somehow difference, more soothing. Almost as if he understands.

He probably does.

"Shall I call him in?" he asks, looking down at her as she tilts back her head, feeling his breath on her face.

Her heart chooses to flutter at the oddest of times.

She shakes her head slowly, not yet recovered, body still trembling.

"You okay, Ed?" he sounds genuinely concerned, patting her on the back again. "You're shaking."

"I'm fine," she lies and slowly disentangles from their awkward embrace, harshly reminding herself that this is her commanding officer, not her mother.

Or her father.

She blushes furiously, embarrassed that he has seen her in such a moment of weakness.

"What – what happened?" she shifts, placing her feet on the carpet.

"You passed out," he answers. "You don't remember?"

"Oh..."

"Alphonse told me you hadn't eaten anything since last night. So I had some sandwiches brought over for you."

"Um...thanks." She is surprised by this gesture, even more so when he pushes the tray towards her. At first, she isn't inclined to eat, feeling tired and dizzy. But then, she reminds herself that she needs to eat to feel better and she starts to munch on the chicken sandwiches.

They remain in heavy silence, not knowing what to say to each other, but Mustang breaks the silence. "Eat up," he just says. "Did you have a nightmare?"

She pauses before swallowing. He takes that as an affirmative answer.

"You kept saying Alphonse's name when you were out," he goes on slowly, eyes deep and anxious. "And then you kept apologizing to the soldiers..."

Suddenly, Ed isn't hungry anymore. She finishes her sandwich and takes a drink of water, deliberately not meeting his penetrating gaze.

He remains unfazed. "It happens, Ed," he says unobtrusively, words meant only for her. "It happens to us all."

"I guess I should've been expecting it, huh?" she remarks bitterly.

He looks like he wants to say something more to her, but propriety prevents him, and he simply nods.

"I want to see Al now," she looks up at him.

"Of course," he nods again. "You wait here, I'll go get him."

She is puzzled why he's being so nice all of a sudden when he was insulting her just hours ago, but hell if she's complaining. She watches his back disappear from the door and moments later, Al comes in, armor clanking.

It is a comforting sound.

"Sister!" he cries. For a moment she thinks he's going to hug her, but he stands at bay, looking at her carefully with those red glows people have come to think of as eyes. What color were his eyes back then? Ah yes. They were gray. Wide and grey, reflecting the light of the sun whenever they played outside. They would brim so easily with tears when he was young, and then their mother would scold her for picking on him.

"What happened? Are you okay? Say something!" he says desperately.

She manages a small smile. "I'm okay, Al, I just wasn't feeling too well." She glances at the tray of sandwiches. "Guess this is the last time I'll be going without breakfast, huh?"

"I told you to eat something, didn't I?" he chides her. "The Colonel got you some food – "

"Yeah, I had it," she says, trying to calm him down. Honestly, she should be the one fretting after having that terrifying nightmare.

"He was pretty worried about the way you passed out."

"Oh...really?"

"Yeah, he sent Sergeant Falman to get me. I was so worried about you, Sister..."

She smiles again, despite his concern for her firing her guilt. _Why are you so nice to me?_ "Don't sweat it, Al," she comforts him, "I'm fine. Really. I feel a lot better than before." And she does.

Until the images rush back to her, the blood, the darkness, the serpentine corpses engulfing him, and her blood runs cold.

"Hey, Al?" she gets to her feet slowly, swallowing, hating how he's treating her like glass. "Could you come here for a moment?"

Al complies. "What is it?"

She takes a step forward and embraces him, pressing herself to the cool plates of metal, remembering a time when her brother had a warm body and a heartbeat. He is surprised at first but then he returns the embrace, large leather gauntlets coming to rest upon her shoulder blades. "Ed?" he says her name softly, confused at this sudden display of affection.

She tightens her arms around him. "I'm going to get your body back, Al," she whispers fervently, golden eyes filled with determination and promise. "I don't care how long it takes or what I have to do – I'm going to get your body back."


	10. Assumming makes an ass out of you and me

When I was just a baby, my mama told me, "Son,

Always be a good boy; don't ever play with guns."

But I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.

When I hear that whistle blowin' I hang my head and cry.

Johnny Cash, "Folsom Prison Blues"

Being a State Alchemist entrance exam marker isn't that bad as Ed has found out in the last week. She gets to spend her time scribbling odd comments like _Come back when you've actually learned basic alchemy_ and _Improve your arrays_ and _You call this a transmutation circle?_ in bright red ink, something that she has specially taken to after Mustang told her that the applicants won't be getting those back. Sometimes, she doodles on the scripts (very theraputic), little pictures of her, Al and Winry standing together, fuzzy clouds on top of their heads and stick-like grass at their feet.

Mustang looks at these drawings sometimes. The first time he did, he blinked and lifted an eyebrow. "I don't think you should be doing that, Fullmetal," he pointed out.

"Why not?" she looked him in the eye, putting the final touches on a little drawing of Winry punching Al (why had she done that?). "You said they weren't going to get these back."

"Yes, but it's one thing to write harsh comments, and another to draw pictures on exam scripts."

"Okay." She nodded and put away her pen. "Is anyone else going to see these?"

"Probably not. But that still doesn't mean that you can use them as a canvas."

Ed liked how that sounded and so that's what she's taken to. The next couple of times she did, Mustang just gave her a disapproving look. What a pansy. She takes these looks in stride and brings some colored pens with her just to piss him off. It is her revenge for making her do this boring job in the first place. Seriously, she should gallopping across Amestris to Xing to the ends of the earth for any trace of the legendary artefact so that they can get back what they lost. Instead, she is stuck in a room with stupid, stupid Mustang, grading papers like some schoolteacher. She always hated her old teacher back at Risembool. The old hag always gave her a C- in art class, probably because she had more talent than the teacher. _Well, look whose doodles are cooler now,_ she thinks as she sits back and admires a little drawing of Al flexing his metal arms in the sun.

Luckily for them, Al is busy doing research these days and one day, they meet at the cafeteria during their (her) lunch hour. From the corner of her eye, she notices Mustang sitting at the corner all alone. _Well, that's strange,_ she muses. _He usually goes out to eat._

"Okay, Al, so what've you got for me?" she turns back to her brother, who has placed a stack of neatly-written research notes in front of her.

"I found this amazing book on the history of the quest of the Philosophers's Stone," he says in a hushed tone and Ed leans in closer to listen. "We already know from Dr. Marco that human lives in large numbers are required to forge a Stone. Not to mention how many people perished in their search for it. Cities vanished overnight apparently, just because they'd finally found it."

"Or it found them," she says darkly.

"Right. I went through this book and found something really fascinating. The last city Xerxes, that was rumored to have found the Stone, vanished about a hundred-and-fifty years ago. It's five-hundred miles away from Central. We could go there, Sister, and search for any clues about how they found it and why they disappeared like that."

Ed skims through the pages of notes, facts, dates, neatly coped, taking everything in like lightning. "Why didn't you check the book out?" she asks, quickly turning a page. It embarrasses her that when they should be doing this together, he is researching alone and she is doodling on exam scripts that she doesn't give a rat's ass about.

"The book was only for reference," answers Al. "But you could see it for yourself when you get off work," he adds brightly, making her realize how little time they've spent together as of late.

"I'll talk to Mustang about this," she makes up her mind, this time looking directly at the Colonel, who now has a beautiful soldier opposite him, tossing her red hair and laughing at all his probably-lame jokes. (Now why did she think that he'd be alone at lunch?) He probably has another girl he'll go home with tonight since he does seem to change his girlfriends as often as he changes his clothes. The girl he's taking home tonight probably has lustrous brown hair kissed with red highlights (Becca from the secretary pool - Ed secretly supposes that her commanding officer has slept with half the women there - who's had her eye on him for months as though he were a diamond, for like what, five months now? Ed's had a longer relationship with the cats that Al sneaks in and she has never even seen them. Except for maybe one or two, but that's because he was doing a lousy job of hiding them).

Her eyes grow larger and then she gives herself a mental kick. Has she observed Mustang's dating habits for so long that she can now deduce who he'll be taking home tonight? For someone who's been checking dozens and dozens of scripts lately, she's sure had a lot free time on her hands.

She distantly hears Al say something that sounds like a question, and without thinking, she simply answers, "Uh-huh."

"Sister!" Al reproaches, startling her.

"What?" she is confused.

"I just told you that I don't think Winry's happy with me," Al "scowls" and Ed flushes.

"Huh? That's just silly, Al. She adores you. Why else would she go out with you?" she is genuinely confused by her brother's insecure confession.

"She ran into that guy from Rush Valley again yesterday," the younger Elric elaborates, looking crestfallen. "She looked really happy to see him."

"Well, Winry's a very friendly girl." She senses herself going one step further with the guilt trip. Crap.

"What do I do about it?" he asks, puzzled. "I know they went out a couple times in the past...and she brightened up when she saw him. I mean, he can touch her, feel her skin." _While I can't _remains hanging in the air.

Ed doesn't know what to say to that. Her mind is as blank as a white page. Her worst nightmare is slowly coming to life, for Al has never openly regretted not having his body (this is as open as he'll get). He has always been gracious and optimistic. Until now. And pretty soon, he will start to hate her, just like she's always feared.

"Not doodling anymore?" Mustang asks as he looks over Ed's desk.

"No," she answers absently. "I'm done with these, though."

He sifts through the scripts with an inspector's air. Interestingly, not only are there no doodles, but there are also no harsh remarks.

"Too bad," he comments drily. "You were getting pretty good at it."

Ed is completely taken aback. Yup, that's Mustang with his snide remarks and backhanded compliments. She swallows a rude comeback as she really needs to kiss some butt now.

Mustang shrugs and returns to his own desk; it appears that he is in a good mood, probably because just on his way in, he smiled at Becca and complimented the red highlights on her hair before asking her out to dinner. Now, Becca has no reason to cast her resentful looks showing how lucky she is to be spending such long hours in close proximity with the Colonel. Ed would love to switch places any day.

She quickly gets up and goes to his desk. He looks up at her expectantly, knowing that she will ask him for something.

They really have been spending too much time together in close quarters.

"I need to ask you for something," she announces, trying not to be nervous. Why would she have a reason to be nervous with those obsidian eyes boring into her like water seeping into a sponge?

"Actually," he says as he sits up, "there's something I wanted to talk to you about, Fullmetal. There's going to be a party -"

"I'm not going as your date," she blurts out irritably. And then, realizing what she's said, she pales and bites her tongue.

He blinks. And narrows his eyes. "I wasn't about to ask you," he answers icily, sending a chill down her spine. "What ever gave you that idea?"

Way to go, Ed! You've ruined your only chance of getting him to send you out on a mission. Say something, you idiot! But again, her mind is as blank as a...very blank thing.

"Um - " she begins.

"Never mind," he interrupts to save them both from further embarrassment. May the Power That Be bless him for this small act of kindness that she will show her gratitude for. As soon as she gets back her other two human limbs and delivers a right-handed punch on his ugly face. Wait, maybe she should do that with the automail.

"As I was saying," he continues, black gaze holding hers. "Since we're just about done with checking the scripts, we will soon be ready to announce the results. Then comes the psychological. And the practical."

"Yeah, I know, I'm a State Alchemist, too," she quips, unimpressed. "What does it have to do with a party?"

"The orientation this year will be quite a celebration," Mustang replies, "we all need to be there."

Ed narrows her eyes. "There was no such celebration when I became a State Alchemist," she accuses venomously.

"There's no point in having one when you're only going to take one or two. But this year, I'm told that the military will be accepting about ten to twelve alchemists. And the increase in taxes..."

"You mean we're paying taxes so that the goddamn military can have some party?"

"You don't pay taxes, Edward," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Anyway, you just need to be there. That's it."

"I guess I could do that," Ed answers after a moment's thought; she is rather curious to see what a military party would be like.

"Now what is it that you wanted to ask me?"

She takes a deep breath. How is she going to phrase it all in her head, when she lets out the words? She isn't used to asking favors from anyone, especially not this fuckface (missions don't really count as favors, do they?) and in light of her recentmost conduct (actually, that incident at Drachma is getting kind of old). But she has to throw away her pride like a stained skirt for Al's sake because that's more important than the Colonel's triumphant smirk.

"Fullmetal?" Mustang inquires when she remains silent. "What did you want to say to me?"

"Al's been doing some research," she then proceeds to explain his findings to the Colonel in detail. He listens to her intently, nodding, even looking interested (what the hell is he playing at?). He seems to be analyzing all the information that she's giving him, trying to put them together. When she is done, she holds her breath and waits for the Colonel to start a long lecture on how much of the military's budget she is wasting on these "wild goose chases" (once, she retorted that geese have nothing to do with the Philosopher's Stone).

It never comes.

Mustang simply shrugs and concedes. "All right. But you can go after we're done with the exams." He goes back to his paperwork.

She blinks. "Th-that's it?"

He looks up at her. "Yes."

"So...you're not going to lecture me or anything?"

"I don't have the time to. But it's good that you remember everything I say."

"Like I have a choice," groans Ed. "You drill it in everytime you send me on a mission."

"Drilling is an essential part of a soldier's career."

"Yeah, I get that."

He gives her a look that clearly spells _whatever_ and they both return to their work.

There are many things that Ed does not know about Roy. For example, she has no idea that oftentimes, he has nightmares of Scar and Ishbal, which make him toss and turn throughout the night as images of dying children hit him with the power of a bulldozer. So he comes to his office to get some shuteye. She doesn't really know that he blames himself for Hughes' death, would give almost anything, even listen to the other man's stories about Elysia and look at endless tirades of photos, to have him back. And also, Roy used to harbor a secret crush on Hawkeye, but decided to forget about it when she openly stated that she preferred shooting to playing chess (strong woman, that Hawkeye).

Ed can't help thinking that every woman seen with the Colonel is attached to him. While that isn't entirely untrue, the woman he had lunch with today isn't attracted to him. It's just her habit to flip back her hair. Nothing personal. And she's been Roy's source on all leads to the Philosopher's Stone.

That afternoon, Sergeant Anderton, as the woman was called, showed up with a few reports about the Stone.

"There are other people after it, Mustang," she warned him, flipping back her hair.

He nodded absently. "I had the feeling. How did you know?"

She paused to see if anyone was watching, or listening. So far, it just looked like Colonel Mustang was flirting with another one of the women soldiers, when he was actually watching his blonde subordinate from the corner of his eye.

The Sergeant stealthily slipped him a few reports, which he quickly took. "There are enemies from Drachma who have come to believe in the Stone's power, and will stop at nothing to get to it," she whispered impatiently. "It's all in there."

He grunted an understanding. She lifted an eyebrow and then followed his gaze to where a short, golden-haired girl was sitting with a giant suit of armor.

She examined the girl from afar, and then turned back to him. "That's Fullmetal?" she asked inquisitively.

"Yes," he was looking at the girl directly now. Thankfully, no one else had noticed this.

The woman carefully looked from Mustang to Edward. And then a look of understanding came over her.

"You have a thing for her, don't you?"

"What?" he stuttered in disbelief, black eyes bulging with shock as he whipped back to see Anderton's eyes twinkle with merriment. He colored. It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

And a goddamn scary one, too.

"That's a ridiculous thing to say, Anderton," he scoffed. "Fullmetal is my subordinate, and fourteen years my junior. She's practically old enough to be my daughter." He looked scandalized by the woman's accusation.

She didn't seem to believe him. "No offence, Mustang, but I don't think your father was fourteen when you were born."

"I do not have inappropriate feelings for Fullmetal," he said firmly.

"Woah, who said anything about inappropriateness?" she threw up her hands in mock surrender. "It's only natural that a man feel this way for a woman. And if you don't see her like that, then why are you so flustered? Besides," she dropped her voice, "I'm told Brigadier-General Byatt has taken a lover half her age - a charming young man from the Briggs - "

"That's enough!" Mustang hissed, turning as red as a tomato. "I do not see Fullmetal as anyone other than my _underage_ subordinate, and I most certainly do not want to take her as my wife - "

"Wife, eh, Mustang? I only said 'lover'." The woman was starting to get under his nerves and he clenched his jaw. She shrugged, a fluid movement.

"Your loss," she told him straightforwardly. "You need to loosen up, Roy. There's no need to be ashamed of how you feel..."

"I'm not ashamed," he snapped, eyes fiering up, "because I feel nothing!"

"Whatever. Okay, look, I gotta get going now. Lunch break's almost over."

Roy hated to think of it that way but Anderton was worse than Hughes.

Back in his flat, he goes through the reports. A giant troop of bounty hunters are making their own search for the Stone. There is proof that these hunters are from Drachma, trying to get back at Amestris because they lost the war. _So, it really is true. Bloodshed leads to bloodshed._

Now he knows. It was his mother first, then Ishbal, and then Hughes, like an endless cycle of war, and if he isn't careful, it'll soon be Edward.

Somehow, for reasons he doesn't care to admit, he isn't willing to let that happen.

A/N: Please review.


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